1 

1 

1 

^ml 


m 


m 


'A 

I 


i\ 


University  of  California. 


FROM   THE    LIBRARY   OF 

Dr.  JOSEPH    LeCONTE. 

GIFT  OF  MRS.   LECONTE. 
No.        '  "   '^ 


1    KO.n 


e   BOOK>> 


JOHN    F  O  §  T  E IR  o 


THE 


LIFE  AND    THOUGHTS 


or 


JOHN    FOSTER. 


ut 


W.   W.    EVERTS, 


AVTBOB   OV  "pastor's   HA.ND-BOOK,"   "  BIBLS    MANUAL," 


r^ 


•  r  THE 


^UNIVERSITY 

OF 


THIRD  EDITION, 


NEW    YORK: 
CORNISH,    LAMPORT    &    Co 

267  PEARL-STREET. 
1851. 


Entered,  according  to  Act   J  Congress,  in  the  year  1849, 

Br  EDWARD  H,  FLETCHER, 

la  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  in  and  for 
the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


STEREOTYPED   BY   C.   C.   SAVAO«, 
13  Chambers  Street,  N.  T. 


PREFACE. 


Opinions  respecting  Foster. — Introducing  Foster  to  the  church 
at  Fromc,  Robert  Hall  says :  "  His  manner  is  not  very  popular,  but 
his  conceptions  are  most  extraordinary  and  original ;  his  disposition 
very  amiable,  his  piety  unquestionable,  and  his  sentiments  moder- 
ately orthodox — about  the  level  of  Watts  and  Doddridge."  In 
another  communication  to  the  same  church,  he  pronounces  him  a 
"  young  man  of  tlip  most  extraordinary  genius."  At  a  later  period 
be  said  of  Foster's  writings,  "  They  are  like  a  great  lumber-wagon 
loaded  with  gold." 

The  eminent  American  reviewer  of  his  "Life  and  Correspon- 
dence," ranking  him  with  Hall, says:  "  Of  the  English  minds  that 
have  departed  from  our  world  within  a  few  years,  none  have  ex- 
cited a  deeper  interest,  or  wielded  for  a  season  a  loftier  power,  than 
John  Foster  and  Robert  Hall."  And  Harris,  the  distinguished 
author  of  "  Prize  Essays,"  reviewing  the  same  work,  says :  "  He 
will  retain  the  reputation  of  gifts  that  have  rarely  fallen  to  the  lot 
of  mortals." 

Foster's  life  in  cheap  form  a  desideratum. — This  volume  fur- 
nishes a  life  of  this  extraordinary  man  in  an  available  form  for 
general  circulation ;  combines  the  principal  events  and  incidents 
of  his  external  history  in  one  complete  panoramic  view ;  and  em- 
braces an  estimate  of  his  intellectual,  literary,  and  religious  charac- 
ter, illustrated  from  his  own  writings. 

The  most  remarkable  passages  of  Foster's  writings,  collected 
and  classified  for  convenience  of  reference  and  use. — In  glancing 
over  a  page  or  volume  of  any  writer,  the  eye  rests  with  ravished 
attention  upon  the  luminous  points  of  thought,  brilliant  sentences 
or  paragraphs,  as  a  connoisseur  of  taste  dwells  upon  particular 
features  of  a  landscape,  or  lines  of  a  painting.  These  more  re- 
markable passages  we  have  carefully  collected  from  the  whole  range 
of  Foster's  published  writings  (including  those  not  yet  issued  from 
the  American  press),  as  a  sort  of  memorabilia  of  his  wonderful  ge- 
nius, character,  and  sentiments.  Some  of  these  beauties  of  thought 
and  imagery  were  never  elaborated  to  ornament  consecutive  dis- 
course;  and  others  clustered  along  the  continuity  of  essays  and  ar- 
ticles, are  so  complete  in  themselves  as  to  be  like  jewels,  or  pearls, 
strung  upon  a  thread  of  gold,  that  may  be  detached  and  contem- 


186?i7 


IV  PREFACE. 

plated  separately  in  unmarred  beauty  and  undimmed  brilliancy. 
These  thoughts,  figures,  and  illustrations,  are  arranged  under  their 
appropriate  topics,  with  headings  to  indicate  their  particular  bear- 
ing or  application,  and  numbered  to  facilitate  reference. 

Foster  as  a  Christian  writer. — From  the  mode  and  associations 
of  his  literary  labors,  their  religious  character  and  bearing  have  not 
been  appreciated.  It  is,  however,  questionable  whether  any  posi- 
tion can  be  occupied  of  greater  importance  to  the  cause  of  religion 
and  morals  than  that  occupied  by  John  Foster  in  his  long  connex- 
ion with  the  "  Eclectic  Review."  The  higher  class  of  religious  re- 
views, to  a  great  extent,  give  tone  to  lighter  publications,  through 
all  their  gradations  and  myriad  circulation ;  and  are  to  the  church 
what  outposts  are  to  a  military  encampment.  But  the  service  of 
essayists,  reviewers,  and  pamphleteers,  receives  little  emolument 
at  first,  and  is  slowly  appreciated.  The  political  tracts  of  Swift, 
and  the  moral  essays  of  Addison  and  Johnson,  though  not  gaining 
to  their  authors  much  reputation  or  emolument  at  the  time,  formed 
a  new  epoch  in  literature,  and  have  at  length  taken  rank  among 
the  classics  of  our  tongue.  The  service  Foster  has  rendered  in  de- 
fending Christianity  from  the  attacks  of  hierarchy  and  skepticism, 
and  in  promoting  its  applications  in  social  reforms,  and  the  general 
amelioration  of  the  condition  of  the  race,  will  be  more  highly  ap- 
preciated in  a  brighter  age. 

Hitherto  tlie  religious  character  and  power  of  Foster's  writings 
have  been  disguised  by  their  secular  aspects  and  associations.  Cler- 
g)'men  confining  themselves  to  professional  reading,  and  all  seeking 
works  ostensibly  religious,  have  been  deterred  from  obtaining  them. 
Yet  there  are  few,  if  any  writers,  who  have  so  faithfully  observed 
all  the  claimed  applications  of  Christianity,  and  perhaps  none  who 
have  furnished  so  clear  and  powerful  statements  and  illustrations 
of  the  principal  doctrines  and  duties  of  Revelation.  The  most 
grand  religious  ideas  are  interspersed  through  his  more  secular 
writings,  like  mines  of  gold  through  an  unsuspected  territory.  In 
the  absence  of  religious  garb  and  profession,  thej'  are  like  a  store 
crowded  with  the  most  valuable  wares,  without  the  ostentation  of 
an  advertising  sign. 

Use  and  convenience  of  this  volume. — Those  who  have  not  Fos- 
ter's works,  will  find  here,  in  addition  to  a  compendious  view  of  his 
life,  the  passages  they  would  mark  and  most  admire  in  them.  Those 
who  have  them,  will  also  find  its  arrangement  of  topics  and  classi- 
fication of  passages,  with  headings  indicating  their  scope  or  bearing, 
and  copious  index,  greatly  facilitating  a  reference  to  Foster's  opin- 
ions, and  the  various  use  and  application  of  his  original  and  f)eerles3 
thoughts,  his  splendid  images,  analogies,  and  illustrations. 


CONTENTS. 


Preface page  3 

Life,  Character,  and  Writings,  of  Foster 5 

Thoughts  of  Foster 53 

CHAPTER  I. 

EXISTENCE,    ATTRIBUTES,    WORKS,    AND    PROVIDENCE,   OF   GOD. 

1.  Any  Order  of  serious  Reflection  leads  to  God 53 

2.  Omnipresence  mysteriously  veiled 53 

3.  Enlarged  Conception  of  the  Deity 54 

4.  Overawing  Sense  of  God's  Omniscience 54 

5.  A  Contemplation  of  God  as  a  Spirit,  invisible  in  his  Presence,  adapted 

to  awaken  Awe  and  Apprehension 55 

6.  Attempt  to  escape  the  Divine  Presence  vain  and  presumptuous fiO 

7.  Grandeur  and  Glory  of  God  reflected  from  his  Works 61 

8.  The  Universe  a  Type— a  Symbol  of  the  Greatness  and  Glory  of  the 

Su|)reme 61 

9.  Attributes  of  God  revealed  through  the  Diversity  and  Immensity  of 

his  Works 61 

iO.  Particularity  of  Divine  Knowledge 62 

11.  God  overrules  all  Events 62 

12.  A  Belief  in  the  Divine  E.Kistence  and  Sovereignty  the  only  reliable 

Foundation  of  Virtue 63 

13.  Deities  of  I'aganism  and  false  Religion,  not  above  Crimination  them- 

selves, can  not,  in  their  Worship  and  Moral  Systems,  condemn  Sin 
in  their  Votaries 63 

14.  The  Atheist 63 

1.5    Peculiar  Illumination  of  the  Atheist  questioned 6  J 

16.  Ignorant  and  arrogant  Pretensions  of  the  Atheist 64 

17.  Certain  Philosophers  impatient  of  the  Ideas  of  a  Divine  Providence 

and  his  Revelation  to  the  World 65 

CHAPTER  II. 

THE    EVIDENCES    OF    REI.IGION— THE    SOURCES,  PREJUDICES,  AND   TENDEN- 
CIES,   OF    SKEI'TICUM,    ETC. 

1.  Unsettled  Faith  as  unreasonable  as  presumptuous 67 

2.  Christianity  Everything  or  Nothing 68 

3.  Christianity  the  supreme  Pursuit 68 

4.  Branches  of  the  Christian  Argument 69 

5.  Miracles  not  incredible 69 

6.  Argument  from  Miracles 70 

7.  Analogy  of  Reliaion  to  the  Course  of  Nature 70 

8.  Proud  Assumption  of  Infidelity 70 

9.  Partial  Knowledge  of  Divine  Ecouomy  should  repress  reasoning  Pride. 70 

A* 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


30. 
11. 
12 

13. 

14 
15. 

16. 

17. 
18. 

19. 

20. 
2!. 
22. 

23. 

24. 
25. 

26. 
27 

28! 
2!) 
30. 

31. 
32. 
33. 

34. 
3.1. 
36 
37. 


TH 

1. 
2. 
3. 
4 
5. 
6 
7. 
8. 
9. 
10. 

11. 

12. 
13. 
14. 
1.5. 
16. 


Process  of  the  Physical  CreRtion  analofroiis  to  thatofthe  Moral.,  page  70 

Christianity  besot  with  no  more  Difficulties  than  other  Suhjecta 71 

Objections  to  Cliristinnity  fVom  the  Discoveries  of  the  Telescope  iin- 

svvereil  by  those  of  the  Microscope 71 

Hopeless  Attempt  of  the  Deist  to  solve  the  great  Problem  of  the  Hu- 
man Condition 72 

Prejudices  of  Unbelievers 72 

Seeliing  lor  secondary  Causes  to  escape  the  Recognition  of  the  Sover- 
eign Agency  of  Divine  Providence 73 

Many  betrayed  into  Infidelity  by  a  blinded  Admiration  of  the  (ienius 

of  brilliant  hut  unprincipled  Authors 73 

Writings  of  Infidelity 74 

False  Systems  often  apologized  for,  for  the  Purpose  of  disparaging  all 

Religion 75 

Oriain  of  the  elevated  Ideas  in  the  Pagan  Theology 7.5 

Pnganism  distinguished  from  Divine  Revelations 76 

Multiplicity  of  Pagan  Wicliedness 77 

Pride  revolted  into  Infidelity  by  the  impartial  Philanthropy  of  Christi 

anity 77 

Perverse  Blindness  of  those  who  see  no  moral  Beauty  and  Grandeur 

in  Divine  Revelation 77 

The  bliahting  Influence  of  Infidelity 78 

The  Gospel  provides  for  those  overlooked  by  Philosophy  and  false 

Religion 78 

Christianity  dissevered  from  its  Corruptions 78 

Glory  of  Religion  obscured  hy  imperfect  Manifestations 79 

Christianity  jirejudiced  by  the  ignorant  Representations  of  its  Friends. 79 

Christianity  distinguished  from  its  Corruptions 80 

Tlie  Evangelical  System  appears  without  Form  or  Comeliness  to 

worldly  Men 80 

Inadequate  and  narrow  Views  of  some  Christians 80 

The  Gospel  adapted  to  all  Orders  of  Mind 81 

Christianity  the  same  amid  the  various  and  changing  Evils  of  the 

World 82 

Two  Ways  to  Atheism 82 

Dreary  Eminence  of  Infidelity 82 

Consummation  of  allowed  Skepticism 83 

The  boasted  Triumph  of  Infidelity  in  the  Death  of  Hume 83 

CHAPTER  III. 

E    LAW    OF    GOD — ITS    HOLINESS,    COMPREHENSIVENESS,    APPLICATIONS, 
AND    EVASIONS. 

God  n  Lawgiver 86 

Supposition  of  a  Divine  Law  necessary 86 

Comprehensiveness  of  the  Divine  Law 87 

The  l>aw  necessarily  holy 87 

The  Law  unalterable 88 

Comprehensive  Application  of  the  Law 88 

Coinplaisancy  of  holy  Beings  in  the  Law 89 

Distinctions  of  the  Law  eft'aced 89 

Dominion  of  the  Law  sought  to  be  restricted 90 

The  great  Sanction  of  Morals  arises  from  the  Recognition  of  the  Di- 
vine Law,  and  not  from  civil  Government 90 

Good  Principles  efHcacious  only  as  abetted  by  the  Sanctions  of  a  Di- 
vine Law 91 

Second  great  Commandment 91 

'J'he  Law  to  be  applied  in  judging  the  Character  and  Actions  of  Men.. 92 

Conscience  the  Monitor  of  the  Divine  Law 92 

The  Facilities  of  Conscience  for  applying  the  Divine  Law 9.3 

Conscience  restrains  from  violating  the  Law 93 


CONTENTS  VU 

17    Conscience  will  minister  in  executine  the  Penally  of  the  Law . . .  paqe  93 

18.  Conscience  perverted  obscures  the  DistinctionB  ot  the  Law 93 

19.  Conscience  made  unt'aithtul  to  the  Law 94 

20.  Modes  of  evading  the  Law 94 

CHAPTER  IV. 

INDinOUAL   AND    SOCIAL    DEPRAVITY    OF   MAN 

1.  Sinful  Nature  of  Man  disclosed  by  his  Acts 98 

2.  Ruling  Passions  of  Man  selfish 98 

3.  The  vast  Amount  of  Wickedness,  repressed  by  menaced  Retribution, 

to  be  charged  to  the  Account  of  Iluman  Nature 93 

4.  Civil  Law  and  Philosophy  can  not  avail  fully  to  repress  Depravity..  99 

5.  Philosophers,  overlooking  the  moral  Perversion  of  Human  Nature 

blind  Guides 99 

6.  Reproductive  Power  of  Moral  Evil 99 

7.  Depravity  impressed  upon  the  chief  Works  of  Man 100 

8.  Character  of  the  Mass  not  to  be  inferred  from  individual  Examples 

of  Virtue 100 

9.  Wickedness  amid  Scenes  of  Beauty 101 

10.  Appalling  Aspect  of  Man's  Depravity 101. 

11.  Popular  Moral  Ignorance 101 

12    A  Figure  of  the  Moral  State  of  the  World 10] 

13.  Aggregate  View  of  the  History  of  the  World  appalling lOi. 

14.  Conimon  Persuasion  of  Human  Depravity 102 

15.  Popular  Ignorance  intercepts  the  Rays  of  Moral  Illumination 102 

16.  Stupidity  of  ignorant  Wickedness  rit  the  Approach  of  Death 103 

17.  Portentous  Aspect  of  Masses  of  Human  Beings  perishing  for  Lack  of 

Knowledge 103 

18.  Retrospect  of  the  Heathen  World 104 

19.  State  of  the  Pagan  World 105 

20.  Thick  Darkness  of  Romanism  intimated  by  the  sombre  Shadows  still 

resting  upon  Nations  and  the  Church 105 

21.  Savage  State 105 

22.  Depravity  a  Barrier  to  the  beneficent  Operation  of  Government 106 

23.  Depravity  assimilates  Civil  Institutions  to  its  own  Standard 106 

24.  Of  an  extremely  depraved  Child 106 

25.  The  Pagan  World— its   degrading  Rites,  degraded  Population,  and 

Evidences  of  Spiritual  Death 106 

26.  Depra\-ity  evinced  in  a  universal  Tendency  to  Social  Deterioration..  108 

27.  The  fomiidable  Prevalence  of  Evil  an  inscrutable  M>stery 108 

28.  Depravity  evinced  by  formidable  Opposition  to  the  Progress  of  Re- 

ligion, and  relentless  Persecution  of  the  Witnesses  to  theTi^uth  in 
successive  Ages 109 

CHAPTER  V. 

CHRISTIANITY — ITS    DOCTRIKES    AND    APPLICATIONS. 

1.  Compendiousness  of  the  Christian  Scheme 110 

2.  Salvation  by  the  Law  impossible Ill 

3.  A  Savior  unappreciated  without  Acknowledgment  of  Sin Ill 

4.  Neces.^ity  of  Atonement Ill 

5.  Comfortable  Reliance  upon  the  Atonement 112 

6.  A  Divine  Liberator  from  the  Prejudices  and  Passions  of  Depravity 

necessary 112 

7.  Mystery  of  the  Oriijin  of  Evil 113 

8.  Technical  Terms  should  be  used  sparingly  in  distinguishing  Chris- 

tian Docti-ines 113 

9    The  Gospel  demeaned  by  bigoted  Interpreters 113 

10.  Ignorance  and  Bigotry  in  Christian  Profession 114 

11    Specimen  of  a  Religious  Bigot 114 


Vill  CONTENTS. 

12    Cowardice  of  bigoted  Errorists page  114 

13.  The  Lines  of  Revelation  and  true  Philosophy  coalesce  and  become 

identical 114 

14.  Metaphors  of  Scripture  should  not  be  forced  to  an  undue  App1ication.ll4 

15.  The  Character  and  Offices  of  Christ  better  distinguished  by  the  Lan- 

guage of  Scripture  than  of  Creeds 115 

16.  Want  of  Discrimination  in   distinguishing  the  Righteous  and  the 

Wicked U5 

17.  Deep  Sense  of  Unworthinesa  proper  to  the  most  Moral — even  the 

Young 115 

18.  Salvation  by  Faith  in  Jesus  Christ 116 

19.  Uniform  Use  of  peculiar  Phrases  in  the  Pulpit  not  desirable 117 

20.  Existence  and  Ministry  of  Angels 117 

21.  Rank  and  Sphere  of  Angels 118 

22.  Kingdom  ot  God  on  Earth  and  in  Heaven  connected  by  vital  Sym- 

pathies   118 

03.  Inefficiency  of  mere  Means 118 

24 .  Melancholy  Musings  in  the  Direction  of  Fatalism 119 

25.  In  its  Fortification  of  depraved  Dispositions  and  Circumstances,  the 

Soul  defies  any  Assault  of  mere  Human  Power 119 

26.  Vain  Confidence  in  Human  Agency 120 

27.  Eti'ects,  disproportionate  to  any  known  Order  of  Means,  may  be  ne- 

cessary to  the  universal  Triumph  of  the  Gospel 120 

28.  Triumph  of  the  Truth  through  the  Gospel 120 

29.  Inadequate  View  of  the  Social  Application  of  Christianity 121 

30.  Amenability  of  Statesmen 121 

31.  Tendency  to  Reform 122 

32.  The  Elevation  of  the  Race  possible  through  vrise  Institutions  and 

Statesmen 123 

33.  Progressive  Amelioration  of  the  Condition  of  the  Race  through  the 

Applications  of  Christianity 123 

34.  Timid  Conservatism 123 

35.  Jurisdiction  of  Civil  Law  may  be  restrained  by  Conscience 124 

36.  Individual  anticipating  and  embracing  Social  Reform 124 

37.  Ceremonial  of  Ordination  liable  to  be  unduly  magnified  among  Dis- 

senters  124 

38.  Church  Independence  distinguished  from  National  Establishments..  125 

39.  Malorganization  of  National  Establishments  evinced  by  Failure  to  ac- 

complish tbeir  proposed  Ends 125 

40.  Adequate  Refonnation  of  a  National  Church  Establishment  impossi- 

ble  126 

41.  Certainty  of  the  Prevalence  of  the  simpler  and  true  Order  of  Chris- 

tianity  127 

42.  Efficiency  of  Independency 127 

43.  Inefficiency  of  National  Church  Establishments 128 

44.  Indictment  against  the  National  Establishment — impossibility  of  its 

Reform 130 

45.  Cavils  at  the  tardy  Success  of  Missi«ns  in  India 132 

46.  Indiscriminate  Eulogy  over  the  Dead  in  prescribed  Service 132 

47.  In  National  Establishments,  Subserviency  often  preferred  fo  Talents 

and  Piety 133 

48.  Romanism  characterized 133 

49.  Romanism  has  symbolized  with  Heathenism 134 

50.  In  Romanism  Forms  have  superseded  the  Spirit  of  Christianity 134 

51.  Absurdity  of  pretended  hereditary  Holiness 134 

52.  Formalism  resorted  to,  to  ease  Conscience 135 

53.  Mummery  and  Mimicry  of  Romanism 135 

54  Interested  Apologists  for  Romanism 136 

55  Romanism  unchangeable 136 

56.  Ascendency  of  Romanism  impossible 136 


CONTENTS.  IX 

CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    OBLIGATIONS   AND    DUTIES   OF    CHRISTIANITY. 

1.  Indifference  to  the  grent  morRi  Conflict  wnging  in  the  World.,  page  137 

2.  Apathy  toward  the  Formidable  Sway  of  Moral  Evils 137 

3.  Pivine  Sovereignty  falsely  pleaded  against  01)ligation 137 

4.  Indolence  operating  to  repress  Senfe  of  Ohligutions 138 

5.  Delay  for  more  manife.«t  Tokens  of  Duty 138 

6.  Doctrine  of  Decrees  available  to  the  highest  Christian  Zeal  and  Actirityl39 

7.  .''hritiking  from  the  Uo?ponsibility  ol  the  Servants  of  God 139 

8.  Inefficient  Conception  of  .Spiritual  Relations 140 

9    Strange  .Apathy  of  the  Masses  of  Mankind  to  Religious  Truth 141 

10    Diversified  Appeals  to  relicrious  Emotion  ineft'ectual 142 

11.  Special  Privileges  improved 142 

12   'I'emiiorary  Ebullition  of  Benevolent  Feeling 142 

13.  Appeals  to  Gratitude 142 

14.  Catholic  Charity  evinced 143 

1.5    Peculiar  Faults  of  moderate  Men 143 

16    Vast  Results  from  apparently  insignificant  Causes 145 

17.  Aggressive  Christianity 145 

] 8    (Christian  Warfare 146 

19.  Self-Devotion 146 

20.  Expression  in  an  Evening  Prayer 146 

21.  A  Life  not  devoted  to  God  profitless 147 

22.  'I'he  Covetous  Man 147 

23.  Unemployed  Resources  of  the  Church 147 

24.  Denominational  Appellations  should  be  repressed 147 

25.  The  Philosophy  ol  Prayer 148 

26.  Prayer  to  Heaven  the  greatest  Resource  of  Earth 148 

27.  Christian  Vigilance 148 

28.  Avoidance  of  Temptation 149 

29.  Triumph  of  Meekness 149 

30.  Incipient  Temptation 149 

31.  Christian  Heroism 149 

32.  Conflicts  of  Wisdom  and  Virtue 149 

33.  Conscience 149 

34.  Watch  and  pray ^ 150 

35  Rule  of  Faith 150 

36.  Intluences  unfriendly  to  Piety 150 

37  Religion  submerged  in  the  World 150 

38.  Isolated  Natures  repressed  by  uncongenial  Associations 151 

39.  Reputation  for  Virtue  necessary  to  Confidence 151 

40.  EfiicHcy  of  Religious  Habits 151 

41.  Attractiveness  of  simple  and  unaflected  Piety 152 

42.  Slow  Progiess  in  Piety 152 

43.  The  Savior  though  unseen,  loved 152 

44.  Desire  of  Ass(]ciation 153 

45.  God  dwells  in  his  People 1.54 

46.  The  Rewards  of  Piety  progressively  developed 154 

CHAPTER  VII. 

OF   MAN— THE    FORMATION  OF  CHARACTER — ITS  SOURCES  AND  DIVERSITIES 
—  POPULAR    IGNORANCE,    AND   THE    DIFFUSION    OF   KNOWLEDGE. 

1.  On  the  Greatness  of  Man 156 

2.  Great  Men 1 .57 

3.  liid:l}<Mence  of  the  Masses  to  the  Distinctions  of  Genius 159 

4    'I'he  mvriad  Influences  combinins  to  form  Chnra'ter 160 

5.  Ciuiparativeiy  trifling  Incidents  of  Early  Life  derive  vast  Impoitiiuce 

from  prospective  Bearing  upon  Clmractcr  and  Destiny IGl 


CONTENTS. 


6.  Uneuspocted  Importance  of  Early  Life pack  Ifil 

7.  Kdui-ntion  ol' I.ile Ki-J 

8.  Klemcnts  of  Charncti;r  traced  to  their  Sources 1(;3 

9.  Absorbiiiff  Tower  of  a  Man  of  Genius 162 

10.  States  of  Mind  and  I'rogress  of  Character  are  the  Life,  and  not  a  .Se- 

ries of  Facta  and  Dates \Cr2 

11.  The  Immorlalitj'  of  Character ] ffj 

12.  Want  of  Self  Confidence  an  Element  of  Weakness  of  Character 163 

13.  Obstinacy  of  Character  not  Decision K!4 

14.  Enerfjy  of  Charncter  augmented  by  vigorous  Physical  Constitution.. .  Ki-l 

15.  A  strenuous  Will  an  Element  of  decided  Character Kio 

16.  Religious  Faith  the  highest  Element  of  Moral  Courage ](;5 

17.  I  know  no  Mortification  so  severe,  &c 1(;6 

18.  Query  :  whether  the  Generality  of  Minds,  the  common  Order,  could 

be  cultivated  into  Accuracy  and  Discrimination  of  generalTh ought.  T66 

19.  Comraohplace  Character IfiC 

20.  Those  averse  to  Inquiry 1116 

21.  Aversion  to  Reflection 1G6 

22.  Complex  Action  and  Diversified  Experience  of  the  Mind I(i7 

23.  Learned  in  all  Science  and  History  but  that  of  Oneself 1()7 

24.  Waste  of  'I'houghts 167 

2.5.  Mortifying  Review  of  the  Progress  of  Character 169 

26.  Observation  available  to  the  Formation  of  Character 169 

27.  Amplitude  and  Symmetry  of  Character 170 

28.  Aversion  to  Self-Knowledge 170 

29.  Escape  from  Reflection 171 

30.  Indisposition  of  Mankind  to  think 172 

31.  Thoughts  the  Mirror  of  the  Heart 172 

32.  Fundamental  Cure  of  evil  Thoughts 172 

33.  Gradation  and  Fruits  of  wicked  Thoughts 172 

34.  Religion  the  noblest  Pursuit 173 

35.  Vices  flourishing  in  Old  Age 173 

36    Splendid  Talents  without  virtuous  Philanthropy 173 

37.  Limited  Acquirements  from  unlimited  Means  of  Improvement 173 

38.  Valuable  Acquirements  personal 174 

39.  Approving  the  Good  but  pursuing  the  Bad 175 

40.  Value  of  Conversational  Power 175 

41.  Assimilating  Influence  of  Intercourse  with  Men  of  Genius 175 

42.  Proper  End  of  Reading 176 

43.  Gentleness  tempered  by  Firmness 176 

44.  Long  Familiarity  with  the  Fashionable  World  destroys  the  Relish  for 

the  more  substantial  Enjoyments  of  Life 176 

45.  Character  of  Courtiers 176 

46.  Amiableness  of  Character  incompatible  with  the  sublimest  Virtue. .  .176 

47.  Exquisite  Susceptibility 177 

48.  Individuality  of  Manners 177 

49.  Discrimination  of  Character 178 

50.  51,  52.  Descriptions  of  Character 178 

53.  Etiect  of  Amusements 178 

54.  Power  of  bad  Habit 179 

55.  The  Importance  and  Necessity  of  a  Ruling  Passion 179 

56.  Danger  of  a  Ruling  Passion  when  it  leads  to  an  exclusive  Pursuit 179 

57.  Important  Points  ascertained  concerning  the  best  course  of  Action. ..180 

58.  Progressive  Formation  of  Character  overlooked  in  many  Ladies..  .181 

59.  Power  of  popular  Intelligence  and  Virtue 181 

60.  Moral  Illumination  intercepted  by  Popular  I;;n(irance 182 

61.  A  Soul  confined  by  impervious  Prison- Walls  of  Ignorance 182 

62.  Attecting  Retrospective  View  of  the  Ignorance  of  the  World 182 

t>3.  Freedom  and  spontaneous  F^manation  of  Knowledge 183 

61.  Mind  extinguished  by  the  Body 183 


CONTENTS.  XI 

65.  Knowledge  like  the  Pun pvGE  Ip3 

6b'.  Secular  Knowledu'e  as.-ociated  with  reliijious IP'S 

67.  Estimate  of  the  hitluence  of  Educa'.ion 183 

68.  Prevailing  Perversion  of  Conscience 16-1 

CHAPTER  VII  I. 

YOUTH — ITS    ADVANTAGES    AND    PERILS— DOM' STIC     LIFE    AND   VIBTDES— 
EDUCATION    OF    CHILDREN. 

1.  Active  Powers  of  Youth 186 

tt.  Temptations  of  Youth fi^S 

3.  Puccessive  Periods  of  Life  soon  passed .- 187 

4.  Disregard  of  the  Experience  of  Others  an  111  Omen 187 

5.  The  Harvest  of  later  Life  must  correspond  with  the  Seeding  of  Youth.  187 

6.  Time  is  the  greatest  of  Tyrants 187 

7.  Youth  is  not  like  a  new  Garment 187 

8.  The  Retrospect  on  Youth 188 

9.  Visiting  the  Grave  of  a  Friend 188 

10.  The  whole  System  of  Life 188 

11.  Price  of  Pleasure 188 

12.  Deplored  Neglect  of  Culture  of  Youth 188 

13.  Insensibility  to  the  Approach  of  Old  Age 188 

14.  True  Value  of  Youth 189 

15.  Youth  improved  makes  Old  Age  happy 169 

16.  Philosophy  of  the  Happinesss  of  domestic  and  all  human  Alliances..  190 

17.  Growing  Strength  of  mutual  Atlections 191 

18.  Necessities  of  Man's  Social  Nature 191 

19.  Disturbances  of  mutual  Confidence  not  necessary  to  confirm  it 192 

20.  Incipient  Domestic  Disputes  greatly  to  be  dreaded 192 

21.  How  far  should  mutual  Confidence  be  extended 192 

22.  Delicate  Concealment  of  Ignorance  or  Error  of  a  Companion 193 

23.  In  Domestic  Disputes,  a  Want  of  Sentiment  diminishes  Sutiering 193 

24.  In  Congenial  Domestic  Alliances  a  hopeless  Predicament 193 

25.  Inconsiderate  Domestic  Alliances 193 

26  Early  Educatinn  greatly  defective 194 

27  Undue  Restraint  of  Children  to  be  deprecated 194 

2d.  Education  of  Childi-en  in  simple  Habits  important 194 

29.  Children's  Ball 194 

30.  Proper  Companionship  of  Children  important 19o 

31.  True  Scope  and  Aim  of  Education ; 193 

32.  Fearful  Responsibility  of  Parents 195 

33.  Rules  for  early  Religious  Education 196 

34.  Said  of  a  fcady  who  infamously  spoilt  her  Son — a  perverse  Child 197 

35.  Apprehensions  of  Parents  for  the  Welfare  of  their  Children 197 

CHAPTER  IX. 

HUMAN    LIFE— ITS    FRAILTY    AND     BREVITY— FUTURE     LIFE— ITS     MYSTE- 
RIES   AND   REVELATIONS — PERSUASIVES    TO   A    CHRISTIAN    LIFE. 

1.  Reason  of  the  undue  influence  of  Things  seen 199 

2.  Intiraiitions  of  the  Transitoriness  of  Life 200 

3    -Man  fades  as  a  Leaf 200 

4.  Man  fades  while  Nature  blooms 200 

5    Winter,  though  denying  other  Gifts,  yields  a  Grave 201 

6.  Much  of  HunTan  Decay  not  visible 201 

7.  t'nperceived  Succession  of  Human  Generations 201 

8    Uncertain  Continuance  of  Life 202 

9.  'Ihe  Records  of  Time  are  emphatically  the  History  of  Death 202 

10.  Memorials  of  advancing  Life 203 

11    The  Aged— Presages  of  Old  Age 204 

12.  Old  Kse  the  safer-period  of  Life 204 


Xii  CDNTENTS. 

13.  Insensibility  to  Mortal  Destiny ^""^"^  on^ 

14.  Retrospect  of  the  Year ^"^ 

15.  Misimprovement  of  Time --"J 

16.  Precursors  of  approaching  Death  unwelcome ^w 

17.  Death  the  Termination  of  a  Journey 20b 

18.  Mystery  of  the  Change  of  Death ^07 

19.  What  the  Activity  of  the  Future  State ^07 

20.  Revelations  of  Eternity 207 

21.  The  Future  partially  rpvealed  or  wisely  veiled ~0^ 

22.  Future  World  veiled .- :  ■  •  -20° 

23.  Mystery  of  Man's  Relations  to  the  Future— his  uncertam  Progression. .<!0H 

24.  Irrepressible  I,onging  to  know  the  Future 210 

25.  Problems  of  this  Life  solved  in  the  next ~10 

26.  Pagan  Views  of  a  Future  State  inefficacious 210 

27.  Offence  of  elegant  Writers,  confounding  the  Christian's  with  the  Pa- 

gan's Triumph  over  Death 211 

28.  Vague  Notions  of  Heaven ^J^ 

29.  Grand  Deliverance  of  Death ~1^ 

30.  Death  the  sovereign  Remedy  for  all  Infirmities ^1 J 

31.  State  of  the  Righteous  in  Heaven  to  be  desired ~13 

32.  Future  Greatness  of  Man 214 

33.  Lofty  Aspirations  for  the  Future  Life ^14 

34.  Sorrows  of  this  compensated  by  the  Joys  of  the  Future  Life -.15 

35.  Contemplation  of  the  departed  Righteous -IS 

36.  Death  the  Exchange  of  the  Earthly  for  the  Heavenly  Treasure 216 

37.  Premonitions  of  mortal  Dissolution  welcomed 21b 

38.  Joyous  Anticipation  of  the  Heavenly  State 216 

39.  The  aged  Believer  approaching  a  Future  Life 21b 

40.  Regrets  of  converted  Old  Age - -|^ 

41.  Death  of  the  Righteous  and  of  the  Wicked  contrasted ^j ' 

42.  Without  God  in  the  World -1° 

43.  Presumption  of  Delay  for  Divine  Influences -sla 

44.  Approving  the  Good,  but  pursuing  the  Wrong ~-0 

45.  Indifference  to  Offers  of  Salvation 2-0 

46.  Unprofited  by  the  Gospel ^^J* 

47.  Indecision  is  decision ^~Y 

48.  Without  God j±\ 

49.  Meet  Death  alone j^^ 

50.  Danger  of  Procrastination ^j^ 

51.  Persuasion  to  religious  Consideration - ^2* 

52.  Presumption  of  expecting  more  efficacious  Means  of  Salvation 223 

CHAPTER  X. 

PLACES,    NATIONS,    MEN,    AND   BOOKS. 

1.  Babylon l^ 

2.  Egypt i± 

3.  Illustrious  Names ~*^ 

4.  French  and  English ~Tl 

5.  Irish ~^? 

6.  State  of  Ireland -tj^. 

7.  Addison  :  Deficiency  of  his  Writings  in  religious  Sentiment ^^b 

8.  Baxter:  Idea  of  his  Life -^^ 

9.  Blair  :  his  Style ~5; ' 

10.  Burke,  as  compared  with  Johnson ^~| 

11    Lord  Burleigh ~j° 

12.  Chalmers  :  Faults  of  Style ^'ri 

13.  Lord  Chatham ■--• ^~^ 

14.  Coleridge:  his  original  Modes  of  Thought,  but  obscure  Style ~~» 

15.  Curran ~;,, 

16.  Miss  Edgeworth :  Moral  Faults  of  her  Writings -J^ 


CONTENTS.  XIU 

17.  Fox— Slavery page  233 

18.  Andrew  Fuller 2.33 

19.  GrattHn 234 

20.  Robert  Hall 234 

21.  Harris:  his  Style 235 

22.  Howard  :  Philanthropy  his  Master-Passion 235 

23.  Home  Tooke 236 

24.  Johnson  :  elevated  Moral  Tone  of  his  Writings 237 

25.  Thomas  More:  his  distininiished  and  blameless  Character 238 

26.  Pope  :  Religious  Character  of  his  Writings 239 

27.  Shaltspere 239 

28.  Jeremy  Taylor 2.39 

29.  Formidable  K.\tent  of  Literature  almost  discourages  Pursuit 240 

30.  Undirstanding  the  Basis  of  Mental  E.xcellence  and  Sound  Literature. 240 

31.  Eflcct  of  reading  a  transcendent  Dramatic  work 241 

32.  Commonplace  Thoughts  can  not  arrest  Attention 241 

33.  Importance  of  Consistency  in  fictitious  Writings 241 

34.  Conversational  Disquisition  on  Novels 242 

35    Great  Deficiency  of  conclusive  Writing  and  Speaking 242 

36.  Commonplace  Pieachere 243 

37.  A  Class  of  Writings  as  void  of  Merit  as  of  literary  Faults 243 

38    Remaik  on  being  requested  to  translate  Buchanan's  Latin  Ode  to  May  243 

39.  Commonplace  Truth  is  of  no  Use 243 

40.  The  greatest  Excellence  of  Writing 244 

41.  Inferior  religious  Books 244 

42.  The  Common  of  Literature 244 

43.  The  Class  of  Books  that  should  be  read 245 

44.  Wa.<te  of  I  ime  in  reading  inferior  Books 245 

45.  Ancient  Metaphysics 245 

46.  3  he  -Moral  Eii'ect  of  the  Iliad  upon  the  World 245 

47.  Philosophy  of  the  demoralizing  Influence  of  Literature 246 

49.  Antagonism  to  Christianity  in  professedly  Christian  Literature ..247 

50.  Responsibility  of  elegant  Writers 247 

51.  Amenability  of  Literature  to  a  Standard 247 

52.  Naturalness  of  Characters  no  Excuse  for  their  Depravity 248 

53.  Elegant  Writers  often  confound  Christian  with  Pagan  Doctrines 248 

54    The  good  Men  of  elegant  Writers  le.«s  than  Christians 249 

55.  Elegant  Writers  restrict  their  Views  too  much  to  this  Life 249 

56.  Defective  Views  of  the  Future  State  in  popular  Writers 249 

57.  Unfaithfulness  of  elegant  Authors  to  the  Christian  Standard 2.50 

58.  Fine  Writers  presenf  fictitious  or  corrupting  .Aspects  of  Society 250 

59    Discrepancy  between  Pagan  and  Christian  Virtue  overlooked 2.50 

60.  Pagan  Distinctions  in  Morals  confounded  with  the  (Christian 251 

Gl.  Divorcement  of  Literature  from  Religion  by  popular  Writers 2.51 

62.  True  Connexion  of  Religion  and  Literature  overlooked  by  Authors. 252 

CHAPTER  XI. 

PASSION,    AFFECTION,    SENSIBILITY,    AND    SENTI.MENT. 

1.  Conversation  on  Cnielty — 1 254 

2.  Poor  Horse,  to  draw  both  your  Load  and  your  Driver  ! 254 

3.  Fisurative  Use  of  ludicrous  Associations  depraving 2.54 

4.  Cruelty  of  the  English 253 

5.  Mrs. 's  Passions  are  like  a  little  Whirlwind 255 

6.  Curious  Process  of  kindling  the  Passion 255 

7.  Interesting  Disquisition  on  the  Value  of  continuous  Passion 255 

8.  Strong  Iiuasrination  of  lying  awake  in  a  solitary  Room 255 

9.  Pome  People's  Sensibility  a  mere  Bundle  of  Aversions 255 

10.  Fine  Sen.«ibilities  are  like  Woodbines 2.55 

11.  Infinite  and  incalculable  Caprices  of  Feeling 255 

1 


XIV  CONTENTS. 

12.  Importance  of  having  a  System  of  exercising  the  Affections.,  paoe  256 
i:i.  Ciiptious  Feelings  incident  to  a  devoted  Aliection 2.">6 

14.  .Sad  Pleasure  in  Grief 256 

15.  'i'riuinph  over  Evils  in  Word  rather  than  Deed 256 

16.  Hostile  Feeling  mitigated  to  Kindness  by  seen  Affliction 257 

17.  Despair  in  .Sutferiiig 257 

Ic!    Sorrows  cleave  to  the  Heart 257 

19.  Klementa  oi  Interest  in  Conversation 2.58 

20    Reactive  Influence  of  kind  and  of  vindictive  Acts 258 

81.  Undue  Thx  upon  Attention  of  Friends 258 

22.  Accurate  Judj^ment  of  the  Characters  of  Friends 259 

23.  Mutual  Assistance  in  the  Improvement  of  Friends 259 

24.  'l"«ste  for  the  Sublime  important 259 

25.  Iiiiippieciation  of  Works  of  Genius 260 

26.  Incapability  for  Conversation 260 

27.  Dancing  a  low  Amusement 260 

28.  Inappreciation  of  any  Exhibitions  of  Mind 261 

29.  Limitless  Range  ot  moral  and  metaphysical  Truth 261 

30.  Incitements  of  hiyh  Example 261 

.31.  Ditferent  Orders  of  Talent 261 

32.  Connexion  ol  Imagination  and  Judgment 262 

33    The  Impression  of  Genius  not  generally  appreciated 262 

34.  Communication  of  Ideas  to  a  congenial  Mind 262 

35.  Beautiful  Ideas  transient 262 

36.  Reluctance  to  Mental  Exertion 263 

37.  An  Original  Preacher 263 

38    Qualitications  of  an  Orator  or  Poet 263 

.39,  Nothing  New  under  the  Sun 263 

40.  A  fascinating  Companion  amid  fascinating  Scenes 263 

41.  No  Susceptibility  to  Mental  Excitation 264 

42.  Intellect  without  Sentiment 264 

43.  Diversity  of  Talents 264 

44.  Perverted  Genius 265 

45.  Moral  Sentiment  not  necessarily  elevated  by  Investigations  of  Sci- 

ence  265 

46.  Figure  of  perverted  Use  of  Memory 266 

47.  Characteristic  of  Genius 266 

48.  Importance  of  the  Imagination 266 

CHAPTER  XII. 

OBSERVATIONS    UPON    NATURE,  NATURAL   OBJECTS   AND   SCENES — ANALO- 
GIES,   ETC. 

1.  Infinity  of  Creation 267 

2.  Unperceived  Extent  of  the  Universe 267 

3.  Invisible  Creation  around  Us 263 

4.  Dependence  on  God  for  returning  Seasons 268 

5.  Change  of  Spring  grateful  as  surprising— its  Analogy 269 

6.  Sublimity  of  a  Mountain 270 

7.  Sublimity  of  a  Cataract 270 

8.  Sublimity  of  the  Sea 271 

9.  Sublimity  of  the  Sun 272 

10    Sublimity  of  the  Heavens 273 

11.  Rising  of  the  Moon  :  Train  of  Reflection  suggested  by  it 273 

12.  The  laithest  Excursion  of  the  Imagination  does  not  reach  the  Limit 

of  the  Universe 274 

13.  Vast  Disparity  between  the  Grandeur  of  Nature  and  the  Sentiments 

with  whi(^h  it  is  contemplated 275 

14.  Grand  Conceit  of  the  Sun  and  a  Comet,  as  conscious  Beings,  encoun- 

tering each  other  in  the  Circuit  of  the  Heavens 276 

15.  Description  of  an  exquisitely  soft  and  pensive  Evening 276 


CONTENTS.  XV 

16.  Little  Bird  in  a  Tree page  276 

17.  On  listening  to  the  Song  of  a  Bird 276 

18.  On  seting  a"  Butterfly 276 

19.  Correfpiindence  probable  between  remote  Parts  of  the  Universe 276 

20.  Looking  at  dark  and  moving  Clouds 277 

21.  Observation  durinir  a  Visit  in  a  Rural  District 277 

22.  Development  of  Truth  from  reflective  Observation 278 

23.  Varied  Knowledge  greatly  increases  the  Interest  and  Instruction  of 
daily  Observation 278 

24.  Dirt'erence  between  Seeins  and  Observine 279 

25.  On  observing  in  a  Moonlight  Walk  the  Shadow  of  a  great  Rock  in  a 
Piece  of  Water 279 

26  Thousihts  in  traversing  Rural  Scenes 279 

27.  On  O  servatiou 279 

28.  Vivil yiiig  Influences  of  Imagination ~!iO 

29.  Diversion  from  natural  to  artificial  Scenes 260 

30  Lively  Fancy  invests  inanimate  Objects  with  Life 280 

31.  Mankind  acquire  most  of  their  Knowledge  by  Sensation,  and  very 
little  by  Rellection 280 

32.  Advantage  of  the  clo.=e  Study  of  Character 280 

33.  Women  observe  .Manners  more  than  Characters 280 

34.  Unusual  .Appreciation  of  the  Beauties  of  Nature 281 

35.  Philosophizing  in  Obsei-viilion 281 

36.  Eftect  on  oiie'«  Ideas  from  Musing  so  much  Sub  Dio 282 

37.  Obser\'ins  is  Reading  the  Book  of  Nature 282 

38.  Inappreciation  of  the  wonderful  Laws  of  Nature  displayed  in  famil- 
iar Things 282 

39.  Improvement  of  Ob.«ervation  more  important  than  its  Extension 282 

40.  A  Man  of  Ideality  diffuses  his  Life  through  all  Things  aiound  him.. 283 

CHAPTER  XIH. 

MISCELLANIES. 

1.  Visit  to  Thornbury  Church  :  Reflections 284 

2.  Precipice  reflected  in  a  deep  Pit :  Analogy 285 

3.  Reflections  from  a  Surface  of  Water  :  Analogy 286 

4.  On  seeing  a  Halcyon 286 

5.  Observing  with  Interest  the  Tumults  occasioned  in  a  Canal 286 

1 1  6.  Eflfect  of  natural  Scenes  on  Character 286 

I  7.  Objects  of  .-ittection  invested  willi  additional  Charms  by  interesting 

Associations 286 

)  8.  Field  ofOaks:  Figure 287 

I  9.  Moonbeams  on  the  Surface  of  a  River 2.*7 

!  10.  On  throwing  large  Stones  down  a  deep  Pit 287 

I  11.  Lantern  in  a  dark  Night 287 

I  12    Entered  a  large  Cavern 287 

I  13.  Drops  of  Rain  falling  on  a  Sheet  of  Water 287 

14.  Power  of  As.>ocicitiou 288 

j  15.  An  observant  Man 288 

16.  Selfish  .\lliances  easier  and  stronger  than  benevolent  ones 288 

17.  Exhibition  of  overstrained  Politeness 289 

!  18.  Worthy  l'atron.«  important 289 

■  19.  Peculiarities  of  the  Age 2-'9 

20.  Inequalities  of  the  Race 2t>0 

;  21.  A  malignant  Observation  of  the  VV'orld 290 

i  22.  Dormant  Elements  of  Evil  in  Society 291 

j  23    An  oppressed  Nation 291 

!  34.  Contrasted  Conditions  of  Society 291 

'  25.  Imagined  Disclosure  of  the  Machinations  and  Motives  of  Rulers  and 

Courts 292 

,  26.  Responsibility  of  States 298 


XVI  CONTENTS. 

27.  Unworthy  Objects  of  Witr page  2f)2 

28.  War:  it'!  Hdrrora— slight  Grounds 2!13 

29    Scope  unci  Diirnity  of  Mctapliysiciil  Inquiries 295 

30.  All  Hubjccte  resolvable  into  First  Principles 296 

31.  Limits  to  Metaphysical  Inquiries 296 

32.  Mutauhysics  a  Means  of  Intellectual  Discipline 296 

33.  I'ractical  Truths  not  recondite 297 

34.  Mohammedanism 297 

35  R.-markahle  Manifestation  of  Mind  in  a  Child 297 

36.  Influence  of  Music 298 

37.  Peter  in  Prison 299 

38.  Powers  of  Language 300 

39.  •'  Omnis  in  hoc'' 301 

40.  Defence  of  llie  Utilitarian  Theory 303 

41.  Suppo.'iition  of  An?elic  Companionship 304 

42  "  'J'liis  quiililication  mi;iht  be  attained,  if—" 304 

43.  Louie  ofRcieiit  in  Persua.^ion 304 

44.  Intellectual  Pursuits  aided  by  the  Atlections 305 

45.  All  Reasoninfjis  Retro.spect 305 

46.  Fieure  of  an  equable  Temper 305 

47.  Adversity,  thou  Thistle  of  Life  ! 305 

48.  A  Man  of  Genius  may  sometimes  suflet  a  miserable  Sterility 305 

49.  Casual  Thoughts  are  sometimes  of  great  Value 305 

50.  Self-complncent  Ignorance  in  judging  of  distinguish^  Characters.. 305 

51.  Fragment  of  a  Letter  (never  sent)  to  a  Friend 306 

52.  Most  interesting  Idea,  that  of  Renovated  Being 306 

53.  Pleasure  of  Recognition 306 

54.  Misapprehension  of  Friends 306 

55.  On  the  Question  of  the  Equality  of  Men  and  Women 307 

56.  Amusing  Idea,  of  Playing  a  Concert  of  People 307 

57.  Observation  during  a  Walk  of  a  few  Miles  alone 307 

58.  Revelation  explained  by  Science 307 

59.  An  active  Mind,  like  an  jEolian  Harp,  arrests  even  the  Winds,  &C...308 

60.  Test  of  Originality 308 

61.  Standard  Chai-acters— a  proper  Touchstone  for  fashionable  Life 308 

69.  Disparity  betvi'een  Means  and  Ends— mortifying  Schemes 308 

63    To  the  Deity— a  Prayer  for  Usefulness  and  Happiness 308 

64.  Interesting  Reminiscence.s — Retrospect  of  youthful  Scenes 308 

65    Deterioration  of  Political  Institutions— their  Tendency  to  Corruption  309 

66.  Mutual  Recognition  of  Inferior  Animals 309 

67.  The  lust  Teachings  of  our  Lord— Speculations 310 

68.  Disasrreeable  Associations— Vivid  Impressions  of  Death 310 

69.  The  rational  Soul  and  iuture  Existence  of  the  Brute  Creation 310 

70.  Mode  of  addressing  the  Deity — on  addressing  a  Friend 310 

71.  Due  Restraint  in  Company— Presence  of  a  third  Person 310 

72.  Figure  of  the  Darkness  of  Reason— Analogy  of  polished  Steel 310 

73.  Value  of  Observation  of  trifling  Events— Incident  while  in  Ireland.  .311 

74.  An  int-usive  Companion — an  Indication  of  worthless  Company 3H 

75.  Unperceived  Origin  of  Images  of  Thought 311 

76.  Transmission  of  ignorant  Habits — the  same  for  two  Centuries  past.. 311 

77.  Deception  of  the  Senses 311 

78.  Excitation  of  Mind  essential  to  the  Enjoyment  of  some  Persons 312 

79.  Thoughtless  Destruction  of  Life 313 

80.  Little  Interest  of  Human  Beings  in  each  other 312 

81.  Imperfection  of  the  Jewish  Dispensation — why  so  inadequate  ? 313 

82.  Self  Deception  betraying  one  into  a  vain  Estimate  of  Capacity 313 

83.  Uncertainty  of  the  Future— Reflections  in  a  Field 313 

84.  Fragment  of  a  Letter,  never  sent 313 


["NIVERS/TY 

THE 

JIFE,  CHARACTER,  AND  WRITINGS, 

OF 

JOHN    FOSTER. 


Often,  when  sti'olling  along  some  quiet  walk 
winding  near  the  banks  of  oui"  noble  Hudson,  the 
attention  is  suddenly  arrested  by  a  succession  of  rip- 
ples, swelling  to  the  compass  and  force  of  waves,  and 
plashing  along  the  shore.  The  observer  looks  with 
surprise  for  the  cause  of  so  contiguous  and  manifest 
an  effect.  '  No  keel  passing  near,  no  gust  of  wind, 
has  disturbed  the  placid  bosom  of  the  waters.  Still 
gazing  with  inquiring  wonder,  at  length  he  descries 
a  noble  steamer  far  above  him,  moving  majestically 
along  the  opposite  margin  of  the  channel,  the  motion 
of  whose  wheels  has  sent  waves  impelling  each  other 
over  the  wide  surface  of  the  liver,  and  dashinsr  at  his 
feet.  So  undulations  of  influence  from  the  lives  and 
works  of  great  men  reach  the  remotest  shores  of  the 
ocean  of  human  society,  and  are  heard  and  felt  in 
perpetual  succession  after  they  have  passed  from  the 
view  of  the  world,  and   their  agency  is   forgotten. 

Homer,  Shakspere,  and  Milton ;  Aristotle,  Plato,  Ba- 

1* 


6  CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGS 

con,  and  Newton  •,  Alexander,  Caesar,  and  Bonaparte 
—  gave  impulse  and  direction  to  the  human  mind 
that  have  extended  to  our  times,  and  are  felt  in  this 
remote  part  of  the  globe.  A  quaint  writer  has  said, 
"Universal  history, the  history  of  what  man  has  ac- 
complished in  this  world,  is  at  bottom  but  the  history 
of  what  great  men  have  done  in  it." 

Republics,  no  less  than  monarchies,  have  been  reg- 
ulated by  single  minds  ;  only  in  the  former  there  has 
been  a  more  frequent  change  of  masters.  Pericles 
ruled  Athens  with  little  less  than  absolute  sway,  and 
Athens  at  that  time  pretended  to  the  command  of 
Greece.  Universal  learning,  natural  science,  politi- 
cal, moral,  and  religious  opinions,  have  been  trans- 
mitted from  one  age  to  another  in  the  conceptions 
and  language  of  great  men.  Greece  and  Rome  now 
address  the  world,  and  influence  human  civilization, 
only  through  a  few  of  their  most  illustrious  poets, 
historians,  philosophers,  and  statesmen.  The  history 
of  the  world  in  the  military  or  philosophical,  political 
or  theological,  mechanical  or  commercial  character 
of  diff'erent  ages  or  nations,  is  preserved  and  repre- 
sented in  the  lives  of  great  men  whose  names  appear 
conspicuous  above  the  ground  level  of  past  genera- 
tions, as  a  few  summits  of  the  Andes,  Alps,  and  Him- 
alehs,  peer  above  the  vast  mountain-range,  and  are  the 
first  and  almost  all  that  is  seen  by  the  distant  and  ad- 
miring beholder. 

Men  of  genius  have  been  the  intei-preters  of  scrip- 
lure,  the  authors  of  canons,  creeds,  and  articles  of 
belief,  for  the  world.  The  influence  of  Augustine  and 
of  Pelagius  has  been  reproduced  through  their  re- 
spective schools  of  theology  to  the  present  time.    Nu- 


OF    JOHX    FOSTER.  7 

merous  denominations  receive  their  doctrinal  pecu- 
liarities from  Arius,  Calvin,  and  Wesley ;  while  the 
particular  history  of  each  religious  sect  has  been  to 
a  great  extent  detei-mined,  through  their  succeeding 
periods,  by  a  few  distinguished  names.  Genius  has 
given  expression  to  universal  history ;  distinguished 
the  character  of  the  state  and  the  church  in  succeed- 
ing ages  ;  and  wields  the  only  legitimate  earthly  sov- 
ereignty. 

From  this  law  of  the  ascendency  of  genius  —  the 
supremacy  of  intellect  —  we  predict  the  growing  fame 
of  John  Foster;  which,  notwithstanding  its  present 
comparative  greatness,  is  yet  in  its  bud.  The  extraor- 
dinai-y  depth  of  his  speculations,  too  profound  for  the 
appreciation  of  the  unthinking  mass,  may  exclude 
him  from  popular  circles  and  libraines.  "  The  capa- 
bility of  being  interested  by  Foster  and  drawn  irre- 
sistibly along  by  the  mighty  current  of  his  massive 
thought,  is  of  itself  a  proof  to  him  who  feels  it  that 
his  intellectual  nonage  is  past  and  gone,  and  suffices 
to  establish  his  claim  to  the  fellowship  of  thinking 
men."  As  a  dissenter,  and  yet  worse  a  baptist,  and 
v/orse  still  a  universal  and  radical  reformer,  he  is 
viewed  with  jealousy  by  the  friends  of  monopoly  and 
anstocracy  in  the  church  or  state.  The  same  preju- 
dice, therefore,  that  dimmed  the  reputation  of  Mil- 
ton, Cromwell,  and  Roger  Williams,  may  temporarily 
obscure  his  fame.  But  though  opposed  by  some,  and 
unappreciated  by  others,  his  influence  will  continue 
and  grow.  His  works  have  already  taken  rank  among 
the  most  profound  of  English  clas.sics ;  and  thinking 
minds  of  succeeding  ages  will  delight  to  commune 
with  John  Foster,  when  almost  all  the  names  of  the 


8  CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGS 

last  and   present  generation  shall  have  been  forgot' 
ten. 

John  Foster  was  the  elder  son  of  John  and  Ann 
Foster,  and  was  born  in  1770  at  a  place  called  Wads- 
worth  lanes,  in  the  parish  of  Halifax,  Yorkshire,  Eng- 
land, His  father  was  a  strong-minded  man,  and  so 
addicted  to  reading  and  meditation,  that  on  this  ac- 
count he  deferred  involving  himself  in  the  cares  of  a 
family  till  upward  of  forty.  His  acquaintance  with 
theological  writers  was  extensive ;  and  in  the  absence 
of  the  pastor  of  the  church  of  which  he  was  a  mem- 
ber, he  was  often  called  upon  to  conduct  the  services 
of  public  worship. 

Present  in  the  original  convention  by  which  the 
British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society  was  fonned,  the 
elation  of  his  pious  joy  was  manifest  to  all,  as  the 
venerable  Christian  conversed  upon  the  subject,  and 
indulged  in  the  bright  visions  of  hope  in  reference  to 
the  world  he  was  leaving.  "  The  noblest  motive  is 
the  public  good,"  was  a  favorite  sentiment  and  emi- 
nently characteristic  of  his  life.  At  the  family  altar 
he  almost  invai'iably  made  particular  mention  of  his 
son  ;  and  the  most  earnest  petition  in  the  social  meet- 
ings held  at  his  house  was,  "  Lord  bless  the  lads"  — 
including  his  son  and  a  companion  who  were  always 
present.  The  mother  of  Foster  was  of  congenial 
tastes,  and  the  counterpart  to  hei'  companion  in  sound- 
ness of  understanding,  integrity,  and  piety. 

From  such  parents  John  Foster  received  the  ele- 
ments of  his  social,  intellectual,  and  moral  character. 
As  early  as  the  age  of  twelve  years,  he  expresses 
himself  as  having  had  a  "painful  sense  of  an  awk- 


OP    JOHN    FOSTER.  U 

ward  but  entire  individuality."  Till  the  age  of  four- 
teen he  worked  at  spinning  wool  to  a  thread  by  the 
hand-wheel ;  the  three  following  years  at  weaving. 
His  associates  and  pursuits  were  invested  with  a 
sickening  vulgarity,  and  he  felt  thus  early  a  presenti- 
ment of  a  more  intellectual  —  a  nobler  destiny. 

At  the  age  of  seventeen  yeai's  he  made  a  public 
profession  of  religion  ;  and  subsequently,  through  the 
advice  of  friends,  especially  his  pastor.  Dr.  Fawcett, 
and  in  accordance  with  his  own  convictions,  he  de- 
vwted  himself  to  the  Christian  ministry.  At  Biearly 
Hall,  under  the  tuition  of  Dr.  Fawcett,  he  commenced 
classical  studies,  and  a  more  systematic  course  of 
mental  cultivation,  in  connexion  with  a  few  others, 
among  whom  was  William  Ward  the  illustrious  mis- 
sionary. He  prosecuted  his  studies  with  great  assi- 
duity in  conjunction  with  his  accustomed  manual  oc- 
cupations, frequently  spending  whole  nights  in  read- 
ing and  meditation,  and  generally  on  those  occasions 
his  favorite  resort  was  an  adjacent  grove.  His  scho- 
lastic exercises  were  pei-formed  with  great  labor  and 
slowly.  His  habits  were  frugal  and  temperate  from 
choice.  Refen-ing  to  these  in  later  life,  he  says  :  "  T 
Btill  possess  what  may  be  called  invariable  health  ; 
my  diet  continues  of  the  same  inexpensive  kind  ;  wa- 
ter is  still  my  drink.  I  congratulate  myself  often  on 
the  superiority  in  this  respect  which  I  shall  possess 
in  a  season  of  difficulty,  over  many  that  I  see.  I 
could,  if  necessary,  live  with  philosophic  complacen- 
cy on  bread  and  water,  on  herbs,  or  on  sour  milk 
with  the  Tartars." 

After  spending  three  years  at  Brearly  Hall,  he  en- 
tered the  baptist  college  at  Bristol,  and  was  under 


10  CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGS 

the  immediate  influence  of  Mr.  Hughes,  the  founder 
of  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society,  a  man  of 
genius  and  of  congenial  spirit,  with  whom  a  lasting 
intimacy  was  formed.  No  one  perhaps  had  more  in- 
fluence over  Foster,  or  aided  more  his  first  essays  at 
authorship. 

Shortly  after  leaving  Bristol,  May  26, 1792,  he  set- 
tled at  Newcastle-ou-the-Tyne,  and  remained  there 
about  three  months. 

In  1793,  he  was  engaged  as  pastor  of  tlie  baptist 
church  in  Dublin ;  and  after  remaining  there  in  that 
relation  eight  or  nine  months,  and  as  much  longer  as 
teacher  in  a  classical  school,  he  became  quite  unset- 
tled in  his  plans.  His  recluse  habits  and  peculiar 
style  of  preaching,  the  unconfirmed  state  of  his  own 
mind,  and  his  loose  opinion  respecting  church  organi- 
zation, conspii-ed  to  restrict  his  popularity  and  pre- 
vent his  being  called  to  eligible  places.  In  reference 
to  the  disappointments  of  this  period,  and  the  uncer- 
tainties of  his  future  course,  he  exclaims:  "'Tis 
thus  I  am  for  ever  repelled  from  every  point  of  reli- 
gious confraternity,  and  doomed,  still  doomed,  a  mel- 
ancholy monad,  a  weeping  solitaire.  Oh,  world! 
how  from  thy  every  quarter  blows  a  gale,  wintry, 
cold,  and  bleak,  to  the  heart  that  would  expand  !" 

He  devoted  himself  casually  to  literary  pui'suits, 
until  in  1797  he  resumed  the  pastoral  relation  at  Chi- 
chester. After  ministering  to  that  church  about  two 
and  a  half  yeai's,  in  1800  he  removed  to  Downend, 
five  miles  from  Bristol ;  ami  thence,  after  a  settlement 
of  four  years,  through  the  recommendation  of  Robert 
Hall  he  was  invited  to  become  pastor  of  the  baptist 
church  at  Frome.     It  was  there  in  1805,  in  the  thir 


OF    JOHN    FOSTER.  11 

ty-fifth  year  of  his  age,  that  his  essays  made  their  ap- 
pearance, which,  after  several  revisions  through  suc- 
cessive editions,  have  taken  rank  with  the  most  pro- 
found works  of  English  classical  literature,  passed 
through  many  editions  on  both  sides  of  the  water, 
and  are  still  extending  their  circulation. 

His  ministry  having  been  suspended  on  account 
of  a  serious  difficulty  affecting  his  throat,  in  1807  he 
became  connected  with  the  Eclectic  Review,  a  peri- 
odical of  the  highest  order,  originated  upon  a  com- 
promise between  low-churchmen  and  dissenters,  but 
subsequently,  chiefly  through  Mr.  Foster's  influence, 
diverted  from  its  impracticable  position,  and  made 
the  organ  of  the  dissenters.  After  the  removal  of 
that  difficulty  he  continued  for  many  years  in  that 
connexion,  acting  in  the  twofold  character  of  review- 
er and  evangelist,  and  never  again  entei-ed  upon  the 
pastoral  relation,  except  after  an  interval  of  many 
years,  in  1817,  for  a  very  short  time  at  Downend, 
where  he  had  before  been  settled.  He,  however, 
continued  to  preach  as  an  evangelist  in  destitute  lo- 
calities, when  his  health  would  permit,  once  and  often 
t\vice  a  sabbath.  At  one  time  he  speaks  of  embra- 
cing in  his  itinerating  circuit  fourteen  different  places 
of  occasional  appointment  from  five  to  twenty  miles 
from  Bourton. 

"  The  sermons  of  Foster  were  of  a  cast  quite  dis- 
tinct from  what  is  commonly  called  oratory,  and,  in- 
deed, from  what  many  seem  to  account  the  highest 
style  of  eloquence,  namely,  a  flow  of  facile  thoughts 
through  the  smooth  channels  of  unifoiTnly  elevated, 
polished  diction,  graced  by  the  utmost  appliances  of 
voice  and  gesture."     He  speaks  thus  of  his  preach- 


12  CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGS 

ing :  "  I  preach,  sometimes  with  great  fertility,  some- 
times with  extreme  barrenness  of  mind ;  insomuch 
that  I  am  persuaded  that  no  man  hearing  me  in 
the  different  extremes,  could,  from  my  preaching, 
imagine  it  was  the  same  speaker,  I  never  write  a 
line  or  a  word  of  my  sermons.  There  are  some  ad- 
vantages, both  with  respect  to  liberty  and  appear- 
ance, attendant  on  a  perfect  superiority  to  notes. 
Sunday  evening  (a  very  wet,  uncomfortable  night)  I 
preached  to  about  eighteen  or  twenty  auditors  the 
greatest  sermon  I  ever  made.  It  was  from  Rev.  x. 
5,6:  '  And  the  angel  which  I  saw  stand  upon  the  sea 
and  upon  the  earth,  lifted  up  his  hand  to  heaven,  and 
sware  by  him  that  liveth  for  ever  and  ever,  &c.,  that 
there  should  be  time  no  longer.'     I  always  know 

when  I  speak  well  or  the  contrary The  subject 

was  grand ;  and  my  imagination  was  in  its  most  lu- 
minous habit." 

His  relation  to  the  Review  continued  with  an  in- 
terval of  a  few  years  till  1839.  Through  a  course  of 
one  hundred  and  eighty-five  articles  (one  hundred  and 
seventy-eight  furnished  from  A.  D.  1807  to  1820,  and 
seven  from  1828  to  1839)  are  given  his  views  of  a 
vast  variety  of  subjects,  political,  religious,  scientific, 
and  literary,  comparing  favorably  with  the  produc- 
tions of  the  best  British  essayists.  Sixty-one  of  the 
articles  have  been  republished  in  London  under  the 
supervision  of  Dr.  Price,  the  editor  of  the  Eclectic 
Review,  in  two  volumes  octavo,  from  which  selec- 
tions have  been  republished  in  this  countiy  by  the 
Appletons,  under  the  title  of  "  Foster's  Miscellanies." 

In  1808  he  was  manied  to  Miss  Maria  Snookes,  to 
whom  he  had  be«^n  engaged  for  five  years,  and  to 


OF    JOHN    FOSTER.  13 

whom  his  essays  were  addressed.  In  1810  his  only 
son  was  born,  a  youth  of  slow  but  much  promise, 
who  died  at  the  age  of  seventeen  years. 

After  an  interval  of  thirteen  years  devoted  to  his 
twofold  avocation  of  reviewer  and  evangelist,  he  re- 
appeared before  the  public  as  an  author.  In  1818, 
his  discourse  on  Missions  was  delivered,  and  soon 
after  elaborated,  and  published  under  the  title  of  the 
"  Glorij  of  the  Age"  (republished  by  James  Loring, 
Boston),  than  which  a  more  profound  view  of  the 
magnitude,  obligations,  and  encouragements  of  the 
missionaiy  enterprise,  has  never  appeared. 

His  sermon  on  "  the  evils  of  popular  ignorance," 
before  the  British  society  for  the  promotion  of  popu- 
lar instruction,  was  preached  in  1818  ;  and  after  be- 
ing enlarged  and  elaborated,  was  published  in  1820, 
under  the  title,  "  The  Philosophy  of  Popular  Ignor- 
ance," and  republished  by  James  Loring,  Boston. 
Sir  James  M'Intosh,  it  is  said,  pronounced  this  trea- 
tise one  of  the  most  able  and  profound  works  of  the 
age  ;  and  Dr.  J.  Pye  Smith  says,  "  Popular  and 
admired  as  it  confessedly  is,  it  has  never  met 
with  a  thousandth  part  of  the  attention  which  it  de- 
serves." 

In  1821,  he  removed  to  Stapleton,  three  miles  from 
Bristol,  where  he  remained  till  his  death.  In  1822, 
by  invitation  of  intelligent  gentlemen  of  different  de- 
nominations, he  commenced  a  course  of  semi-month- 
ly lectures  at  Broadmead  chapel,  Bristol,  After  two 
years  he  declined  continuing  them  on  account  of  in- 
competent health,  but  finally  after  renewed  solicita- 
tions, consented  to  deliver  monthly  lectures  which 
were  terminated  by  the  settlement  of  Robert  Hall  at 
2 


14  CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGS 

Bi'oadmead,  from  a  modest  deference  to  the  dis- 
tinguished abilities  of  that  great  man.  These  lec- 
tures have  been  published  in  two  series,  and  a  selec- 
tion from  the  first  volume  has  been  republished  by 
the  Appletons,  New  York,  under  the  title  of  "  Es- 
says on  Christian  Morals." 

In  1825,  his  introduction  to  "  Doddridge's  Rise  and 
Progress,"  &c.,  was  published,  unsurpassed  in  com- 
prehensiveness of  view,  cogency  of  reasoning,  and 
earnestness  of  persuasion,  by  any  of  its  class  of  wri- 
tings. It  has  also  been  issued  in  a  separate  volume 
and  republished  in  this  country.  In  1832,  his  ob- 
servations on  Hall  as  a  preacher,  appeared  in  Grego- 
ry's Memoir  of  Hall. 

Two  hundred  and  thirty-nine  letters  of  medium,  or 
more  than  medium  length,  of  his  correspondence  with 
friends  and  some  distinguished  individuals,  have  been 
preserved,  and  in  connexion  with  selections  from  his 
journal  and  several  articles  published  at  different  pe- 
riods, but  not  before  embraced  in  any  collection  of 
his  works,  have  been  interwoven  in  the  nanative  of 
his  life,  edited  by  J.  E.  Ryland,  and  republished  by 
Wiley  and  Putnam,  New  York.  There  is  perhaps 
not  a  biography  in  the  English  language  so  philo- 
sophically arranged,  that  so  fully  and  variously  ex- 
hibits the  character  of  its  subject,  and  that  comprises 
so  much  important  truth,  useful  information,  and 
beauty  of  sentiment. 

After  having  lost  his  wife  in  1832,  and  one  of  his 
oldest  and  most  intimate  friends  in  1833,  he  was 
quickened  to  more  immediate  apjDrehension  of  his 
own  end,  and  with  gradually  increasing  feebleness 
of  body,  and  dimness  of  vision,  but  with  unobscured 


OP   JOHN   FOSTER.  15 

intellect, he  descemled  toward  the  grave  ;  and  in  1843, 
in  the  seventy-third  year  of  his  age,  he  departed  this 
life,  leaving  few  near  relatives,  except  two  daughters, 
who  affectionately  ministered  to  his  declinino-  a^re,  and 
wept  over  the  grave  of  their  illustrious  father. 

A  writer  in  "  Chambers's  Edinburgrh  Journal"  srives 
the  following  characteristic  sketches  of  Foster: — 

"  His  only  hobby  was  revealed  by  the  first  glance 
at  his  apartments.  The  choicest  engravings  met  the 
eye  in  every  direction,  which,  together  with  a  profu- 
sion of  costly-illustrated  works,  showed  that  if  our 
heraiit  had  in  other  respects  left  the  world  behind 
him,  he  had  made  a  most  self-indulgent  resei*vation 
of  the  arts. 

"  But  the  great  curiosity  of  the  house  was  a  certain 
mysterious  apartment,  which  was  not  entered  by  any 
but  the  recluse  himself  perhaps  once  in  twenty  years  ; 
and  if  the  recollection  of  the  writer  serves  him,  the 
prohibition  must  have  extended  in  all  its  force  to  do- 
mestics of  every  class.  This  was  the  library.  Many 
entreaties  to  be  favored  with  the  view  of  this  seat  of 
piivacy  had  been  silenced  by  allusions  to  the  cave  of 
Trophonius,  and  in  one  instance  to  Erebus  itself,  and 
by  mock-solemn  remonsti-ances,  founded  on  the  dan- 
ger of  such  entei-prises  to  persons  of  weak  nei'ves  and 
fine  sensibilities.  At  length  Mr.  Foster's  consent  was 
obtained,  and  he  led  the  way  to  his  previously  unin- 
vaded  fastness  —  an  event  so  unusual,  as  to  have  been 
mentioned  in  a  letter  which  is  published  in  the  sec- 
ond volume  of  his  '  Life  and  Correspondence.'  The 
floor  was  occupied  by  scattered  garments,  rusty  fire- 
Ai-ms,  and  a  hillock  of  ashes  from  the  grate  which 
might  well  be  supposed  to  have  been  the  accumulation 


16  CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGS 

of  a  winter,  while  that  which  ought  to  have  been  the 
wiitincr-desk  of  the  tenant  was  furnished  with  the 
blackened  remains  of  three  dead  pens  and  a  dry  ink- 
stand by  way  of  cenotaph.  Around  this  grotesque 
miscellany  was  ranged  one  of  the  selectest  piivate 
libraiies  in  which  it  was  ever  the  good  luck  of  a  bib- 
liomaniac to  revel 

"  His  dress  was  uncouth,  and  neglected  to  the  last 
degree.  A  long  gray  coat,  almost  of  the  fashion  of  a 
dressinfj-2:own  ;  trowsers  which  seemed  to  have  been 
cherished  relics  of  his  boyhood,  and  to  have  quarrelled 
with  a  pair  of  gaiters,  an  intei'vening  inch  or  two  of 
stocking  indicating  the  disputed  territory ;  shoes  whose 
solidity  occasionally  elicited  from  the  wearer  a  refer- 
ence to  the  equipments  of  the  ancient  Israelites ;  a 
colored  silk  handkerchief,  loosely  tied  about  his  neck, 
and  an  antique  waistcoat  of  most  uncanonical  hue  — 
these,  with  an  indescribable  hat,  completed  the  phi- 
losopher's costume.  In  his  walks  to  and  from  the 
city  of  Bristol  (the  latter  frequently  by  night)  he  availed 
himself  at  once  of  the  support  and  pi'otection  of  a  for- 
midable club,  which,  owing  to  the  difficulty  with  which 
a  short  dagger  in  the  handle  was  released  by  a  spring, 
he  used  jocosely  to  designate  as  a  '  member  of  the 
Peace  Society.'  .... 

"  His  was  one  of  those  countenances  which  it  is 
impossible  to  forget.  .  .  .  His  forehead  was  a  triumph 
to  the  phrenologist,  and  surrounded  as  it  was  by  a 
most  uncultivated  wig,  might  suggest  the  idea  of  a 
perpendicular  rock  crowned  with  straggling  verdure ; 
while  his  calm  but  luminous  eye,  deeply  planted  be- 
neath his  massive  brow,  might  be  compared  to  a  lamp 
suspended  in  one  of  its  caverns.     In  early  life,  his 


[r 


OF    JOHN    FOSTER.  17 

countenance  must  have  been  strikingly  beautiful,  his 
features  being  regular  and  commanding,  and  his  com- 
plexion retaining  to  the  last  that  fine  but  treacherous 
hue  which  indicated  the  malady  that  ended  his  life." 

In  the  foregoing  cursoiy  view  of  Foster's  life  we 
have  noticed  little  more  than  his  external  history. 
His  hio-her  life  was  internal  ;  its  interest  is  traced  in 
the  woikings  of  iiis  mind.  Let  us  contemplate  more 
particularly  his  character  and  works. 

They  are  distinguished  hy  a  grand  comhination 
and  supremacy  of  intellectual  traits.  In  his  child- 
hood thoughtful,  silent,  and  shunning  the  companion- 
ship of  unreflecting  boys,  he  obtained  from  his  sedate. 
behavior,  and  intelligent  observations  upon  characters 
and  events, the  appellation  of"  old-fashioned."  While 
employed  at  spinning  and  weaving,  he  would  steal 
away  into  the  barn  and  study  for  a  considerable  time, 
and  then  by  more  rapid  manipulations  of  the  loom 
seek  to  make  up  the  deficit  of  his  task,  and  sometimes 
would  study  all  night. 

"I  turn,"  he  says  early  in  life,  "disgusted  and  con- 
temptuous from  insipid  and  shallow  folly,  to  lave  in 
the  stream,  the  tide  of  deeper  sentiments.  There  I 
swim,  and  dive,  and  rise,  and  gambol,  with  all  that 
wild  delight  which  would  be  felt  by  a  fish  after  p ant- 
ing out  of  its  element  awhile,  when  flung  into  its  own 
world  of  waters  by  some  friendly  hand."  He  was 
disgusted  with  everything  superficial  and  common- 
place, and  wished  to  put  a  new  face  upon  every  sub- 
ject by  a  fuller  and  more  philosophical  exhibition  of 
it.  He  speaks  of  a  preacher  "  whose  discourse  is 
good  but  attenuated  ;  he  has  a  clue  of  thread  of  gold 
2* 


18  CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGa 

in  his  hand  which  he  unwinds  for  you  ell  aftei"  ell ;  but 
give  me  the  man  who  will  throw  the  clue  at  me  at 
once  and  let  me  unwind  it;  and  then  show  in  his 
hand  another  ready  to  follow." 

He  regarded  the  materialof  which  most  books  arc 
made,  as  pages  of  "vulgar  truisms,  and  candle-light 
sense,  which  any  one  is  competent  to  write,  and  no 
one  interested  to  read  ;  .  .  .  a  mere  common  of  litera- 
ture; a  space  wide  enough,  of  indifferent  production, 
and  open  to  all.  The  pages  of  some  authors  on  the 
contrary  give  us  the  idea  of  enclosed  gardens  and 
orchards,  and  one  says,  hah !  that  is  the  man's  own." 

An  earnest,  inquisitive  and  penetrating  thought- 
fulness  seemed  to  increase  with  his  years.  His  think- 
ing was  with  effort.  He  says  on  one  occasion,  "  Af- 
ter reading  an  hour  or  two  in  Shakspere,  with  as- 
tonishment at  the  incomparable  accuracy,  and  as  it 
were  tangible  relief  of  all  his  images,  I  have  walk- 
ed an  hour  or  two  more  in  the  act  of  trying  to  take 
on  my  mind  the  most  perfect  perception  possible, 
of  all  the  surrounding  objects  and  circumstances  — 
found,  and  have  very  often,  that  set,  laborious  atten- 
tion is  absolutely  necessary  to  this.  I  take  no  images 
completely  —  insensibly,  involuntarily,  and  unc(jn- 
sciously."  The  effort  of  elaborating  thoughts  he  called 
"  pumping ;"  and  he  walked  duiing  the  exercise,  or 
kept  an  involuntary  motion  of  the  body,  correspond- 
ing with  the  throes  of  the  mind.  His  mind  was  a 
workshop,  not  a  window.  He  says  on  one  occasion, 
"  I  have  labored  to  think  till  I  can  not  form  one  sim- 
ple idea;  I  seem  to  have  no  more  mind  than  the  ink- 
stand." 

He  thought  with  system  as  well  as  lahoriously ,  and 


r 


OF    JOHN    FOSTER.  19 

availed  himself  of  passing  occurrences,  and  casual 
mental  excitements,  for  the  illustration  and  elabora- 
tion of  his  views  of  some  subject  that  had  been  long 
revolved  in  the  ocean  of  his  mind,  like  a  pebble  pol- 
ished by  the  action  of  the  sea.  The  mental  activity 
of  the  world  is  to  a  great  extent  without  purpose  or 
concentration.  It  is  like  the  surplus  power  of  steam 
escaping  from  the  blowpipe  in  noisy  but  aimless  en- 
ergy. Scarcely  a  fraction  of  the  mental  excitement, 
the  motive  power  of  thought,  is  turned  upon  the  stu- 
pendous enginery  of  the  intellectual  world,  to  advance 
truth  and  human  improvement.  Inferior  minds  dis- 
sipate their  existence  in  idle  reveries,  and  casual  un- 
directed action ;  while  many  superior  minds  not 
availing  themselves  of  occasions  of  reflection,  or  ex- 
hausting their  strength  in  intellectual  vagrancy,  or 
in  aimless  activity  beating  the  air,  accomplish  but 
little. 

In  his  industrious  and  systematic  thoughtfulness 
and  his  susceptibility  to  impressions  from  surround- 
ing objects,  Foster's  mind  was  like  a  lens,  converging 
the  scattered  rays  of  tlie  light  of  daily  observation 
upon  whatever  subject  he  was  contemplating,  till  it 
was  invested  with  all  the  intense  interest  and  glow- 
ing brilliancy  of  his  own  imagination.  Such  a  mind 
derives  more  tnrth  from  a  limited  range  of  facts  and 
reading,  than  others  from  a  much  wider  range.  As 
the  diffused  heat  of  the  toirid  zone  does  not  kindle 
the  most  combustible  matter;  while  that  of  a  north- 
ern sun  concentrated  in  rays  of  light  through  a  well- 
constructed  lens  will  ignite  almost  any  body,  Foster's 
mind  could  avail  itself  of  the  materials  and  combine 
the  elementsof  thought,  and  as  "  a  focus  concentrate 


20  CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGa 

into  one  ardent  beam  the  languid  lights  and  fires  of 
ten  thousand  surrounding  minds." 

He  was  a  reinarlcahly  profound  thinker.  "His  mind 
was  a  fathoming  line  which  he  perpetually  employed 
:in  penetrating  the  depths  of  nature,  and  fetching  up 
the  purest  gems  of  truth  and  sentiment.  Diving  to 
those  profundities  seemed  easy  to  him,  and  he  could 
extend  the  search  to  places  far  beyond  the  reach  of 
most  even  distinguished  intellects." 

Superficial  thinkers  leave  the  impression  that  they 
have  expressed  all  they  felt;  their  words,  adequate 
expressions  of  their  thoughts,  restrict  our  views. 
Even  with  indifferent  attention  we  comprehend  at 
least  all  their  meaning,  and  take  in  the  entire  range 
of  their  vision.  Not  so  with  a  profound  thinker. 
There  is  an  indefinite  vastness  in  the  range  of  his  vis- 
ion ;  and  his  words  are  only  guides  directing  the 
mind  in  pursuit,  through  the  immensity  of  thought. 
The  mental  vision  stiikes  not  against  the  barrier  of 
language  as  a  dead  limit,  but  is  guided  by  it  as  by  a 
series  of  waymarks  that  constitute  in  their  adjusted 
collocation  a  vista  opening  to  the  distance  of  the  re- 
gion of  ultimate  truth. 

To  the  generality  of  readers,  depth  of  thought  is 
confounded  with  confusion  of  thought.  Events  and 
ideas  heaped  and  hurdled  together,  and  lit  up  here 
and  there  with  flashes  of  wit  and  imagination,  are 
often  received  in  their  chaotic  state  as  indications  of 
greater  mental  jjower  than  they  would  be,  if  reduced 
to  order,  and  connexion,  by  the  strongest  exercise  of 
a  patient,  penetrating,  and  comprehensive  intellect. 
Pre-eminence  of  understanding,  however,  is  exhibited 
in  so  grappling  with  a  subject  as  to  educe  simplicity 


OF    JOHN    FOSTER.  21 

from  complexity,  order  from  confusion.  In  Foster's 
mind  a  subiecl  is  at  once  resolved  into  all  its  con- 
stituent parts,  seen  in  its  various  relations,  and  so 
presented.  His  genius  restrained  itself  from  wan 
dering  beyond  tlie  daylight  of  clear  sense,  amid  tho 
shining  mists  of  what  his  own  phrase  may  designate, 
as  "subtlety  attenuated  into  inanity."  He  had  the 
clearest  idea  of  what  he  intended  to  unfold,  and  nev- 
er lost  himself  and  o'diers  in  metaphysical  subtleties 
and  shapeless  imaginings.  He  never  was  satisfied 
with  dim  and  shadowy  views  of  a  subject.  He  con- 
tinued to  pore  over  it,  like  a  man  contemplating  a 
landscape  dimly  seen  in  its  outline  and  prominent 
points  through  the  morning  mists  —  gazing  at  every 
aspect,  renewing  the  most  inquisitive  and  penetrating 
glances,  and  continuing  observant  watchfulness  till 
the  mists  disappeared,  and  the  subject  in  all  its  ex- 
tent, relations,  and  beauties,  was  revealed  to  the  sat- 
isfied and  enraptured  mind.  His  exhibition  was 
luminous  like  the  daylight  —  that  simple  clearness 
which  makes  things  conspicuous  and  does  not  make 
them  glare  —  which  adds  no  color  or  form  but  purely 
makes  visible  in  perfection,  the  real  color  and  form 
of  all  things  around.  If  there  remained  an  unknown 
side  of  the  subject,  oi:  aspect  of  the  thought,  it  was 
because  the  subject  itself  lay  beyond  the  survey  and 
investigation  of  the  human  intellect,  and  not  because 
his  conception  was  partial,  dim,  or  shadowy.  The 
fulness  of  conception  possible  to  the  human  mind  is 
attained  before  the  partial  is  described.  Some  pas- 
sao^es  are  obscure  because  the  sentiment  is  recondite  — 
the  subject  difficult,  and  no  form  of  words  can  make  it 
plain  to  a  reader  who  has  not  analogous  ideas. 


22  CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGS 

Though  not  much  read  in  systems  of  science  and 
philosophy,  he  had  a  deep  insight  into  their  ultimate 
principles,  all  that  made  them  valuable.  Obtaining 
an  intense  appieciation  and  comprehensive  view  of 
every  subject  he  approached,  his  thoughts  reached 
to  the  utmost  discriminating  and  pointed  individuali- 
ties :  as  in  a  good  portrait  you  identify  not  merely 
the  race,  or  a  class,  but  also  an  individual;  or  as  in  a 
true  painting  in  botany  you  distinguish  not  merely 
a  species  of  plants,  but  a  particular  flower  with  its  pe- 
culiar stamen  ,  petal,  and  color.  His  analysis  was  ul- 
timate ;  he  stripped  every  fibre  from  every  thought. 
"His  logic  was  not  subtlety,  but  the  faculty  of  keen, 
clear  insight,  without  the  rambhngof  a  thought;  and 
of  rifi^id  severe  expression  without  the  waste  of  a 
word ;"  presenting  accurately  the  relations  and  se- 
quence of  truths.  You  can  not  reverse  the  order  of 
topics,  propositions,  paragraphs,  or  even  sentences, 
without  impairing  the  force,  or  obscuring  the  sense  of 
an  article.  His  elaborate  writings  manifest  a  linked 
consecutiveness  of  thought,  and  in  the  succession,  cli 
mactic  order,  and  concentrated  force  of  logic,  reach 
their  conclusion  without  the  ostentation  of  major  or 
minor  premises,  or  formal  annunciation  and  inferences, 
as  a  cannon-ball  strikes  its  mark,  evincing  in  the  re- 
sult the  certainty  of  the  aim,  and  the  directness  of  the 
progress  though  its  path  is  not  visibly  distinguished. 

We  can  hardly  conceive  of  an  intellectual  pursuit 
or  achievement  to  which  his  mind  was  inadequate. 
He  could  have  excelled  in  mathematics;  could  have 
become  one  of  the  most  gorgeous  and  thoughtful  of 
poets  ;  or  have  written  the  "  analogy  of  religion." 
He  sometimes  equals  or  surpasses  the  tersest  strength 


OF    JOHN    FOSTER.  23 

of  Butler,  Clark,  oi-  Barrow ;  and  some  of  his  pas- 
sages rival  the  sublimity  and  gorgeousness  of  the  most 
remai-kable  lines  of  the  "  Paradise  Lost."  Other 
writers  may  have  exhibited  more  of  brilliancy,  of 
novelty  and  luxuriance  of  imagery,  more  sudden  flash- 
es, points,  and  surprises  of  thought,  and  more  mag- 
nificence of  language.  If  his  fancy  is  not  so  exu- 
berant as  Jeremy  Taylor's,  Coleridge's,  or  Wilson's, 
his  imagination  is  more  ardent  and  powerful.  It  bore 
its  flaming  torch  into  the  enormous  shadow  of  every 
grand  mystery  of  nature,  providence,  and  revelation. 
He  seemed  ever  to  be  hoverins:  in  his  discursive  and 
intrepid  fancy,  inquisitive  observation,  and  penetra- 
ting inquiry,  on  the  confines  o^  the  spiritual  world — 
the  infinite  unknown,  where  Gabriel  might  stand 
abashed  and  confounded.  In  his  restless  inquiry  af- 
ter the  unknown  and  the  future,  a  late  writer  has  said, 
there  is  some  such  difference  between  him  and  other 
distinguished  men,  as  the  poet  describes  between 
"Michael,  ascending  with  Adam  the  mountain  to  tell 
him  what  shall  happen  from  his  fall,  and  Raphael  the 
sociable  angel,  relating  to  him  in  his  bower,  the  his- 
tory of  the  creation."  You  are  overawed  by  the 
majesty,  or  dazzled  by  the  splendor  of  his  conceptions. 
Your  course  lies  along  a  lofty  range  rising  over  the 
level  of  common  minds,  and  carrying  you  to  the  high- 
est elevations  of  thought ;  winding  amid  varied  sub- 
limities—  beside  snowy  summits,  whose  suspended 
avalanches  overhang  the  way,  or  yawning  gulfs  whose 
frightful  chasms  might  be  supposed  to  echo  the  wail 
of  lost  spirits ;  and  is  interspersed  with  varying  scenes 
of  the  beautiful,  the  picturesque,  and  the  grand,  break- 
ing upon  the  view  with  suddenness  and  surprise. 


24  CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGS 

A  reviewer*  has  said  that  in  comparison  with  Hall 
the  mind  of  the  latter  is  more  like  a  royal  garden, 
with  rich  fruits  and  overhanging  trees  and  vistas ; 
that  of  the  fonner  like  a  stern,  wild,  mountain  region 
likely  to  be  the  haunt  of  banditti.  The  mind  of  the 
latter  is  more  like  an  inland  lake  in  which  you  can 
see,  though  many  fathoms  deep,  the  clear  white  sand 
and  the  small  pebbles  on  the  bottom  ;  that  of  the 
former  like  the  Black  sea  in  commotion. 

Another  distlngmshing  feature  of  his  character  and 
writings  was  a  deep  love  of  Nature,  and  an  exquisite 
appreciation  of  the  beauties  of  natural  scenery.  He 
says:  "Sweet  Nature!  I  have  conversed  with  her 
with  inexpressible  luxury  ;  I  have  almost  worshipped 
her.  A  flower,  a  tree,  a  bird,  a  fly,  has  been  enough 
to  kindle  the  mind  to  sublime  conceptions.  When 
the  autumn  stole  on,  I  observed  it  with  the  most  vigi- 
lant attention,  and  felt  a  pensive  regret  to  see  those 
forms  of  beauty,  which  tell  that  all  the  beauty  is  go- 
ing soon  to  depart."  The  very  words  woods  and  for- 
ests would  produce  the  most  powerful  emotion.  "  In 
matters  of  taste,  the  great  interested  him,  even  more 
than  the  beautiful,  in  nature  or  in  human  character. 
Great  rocks,  vast  trees  and  forests,  dreary  caverns, 
volcanoes,  cataracts,  tem2)ests,  and  great  heroic  deeds 
of  men,  were  the  objects  of  the  highest  enthusiasm." 
On  one  occasion  he  left  his  house  and  walked  a  con- 
siderable distance  in  a  drenching  rain,  to  observe  a 
waterfall,  while  the  torrent  was  swelling  above,  and 
precipitating  with  increasing  volume  and  force,  and 
louder  roar,  from  the  rocks. 

During  a  visit  to  the  localities  about  Snowden,  he 
"  Dr.  Cheever. 


OF    JOHN    FOSTER.  25 

ascended  that  imperial  eminence  at  midnight,  and 
saw  the  lisinsf  of  the  sun  from  its  summit.  On  an- 
other  occasion  he  persuaded  a  friend  to  walk  with 
him  all  night  by  the  river-side,  to  observe  how  the 
light  at  its  first  approach  aflected  the  surrounding 
scenery.  And  in  reference  to  such  observations  he 
subsequently  remarks  :  "  It  is  difficult  to  trace  the 
precise  steps  of  the  gradation  by  which,  after  the  sun 
is  set,  the  evening  changes  into  night.  The  appear- 
ances in  the  progress  of  the  morning  are  somewhat 
more  palpable."  A  friend  says  :  "  I  have  known  him 
linger  by  a  huge  ancient  tree  in  the  park  of  Longleat, 
still  reluctant  to  quit  the  spot,  and  as  if  half  ready  to 
take  root  near  its  giant  trunk.  A  much-valued  friend, 
a  lady  with  whom  he  visited  many  beautiful  spots  in 
our  neighborhood,  speaks  of  the  difficulty  with  which 
he  was  persuaded  to  quit  the  top  of '  Alfred's  Tower,' 
at  Stourhead,  where  the  panoramic  prospect  riveted 
him.  In  the  same  mood  he  would  gaze  untiringly  on 
a  waterfall,  or  the  rushing  of  a  rapid  stream." 

From  this  early  and  prominent  taste  he  was  always 
specially  interested  in  books  of  travel ;  and  he  read 
with  interest  and  eagerness  everything  he  could  ob- 
tain relating  to  stn'ange  objects  and  adventures  in 
distant  regions,  and  confidently  and  almost  enthusi- 
astically anticipated  that  he  himself  should  become 
a  travelling  adventurer,  and  see  almost  all  the  won- 
derful places  and  spectacles  of  which  he  had  read. 
And  in  advanced  life  he  said,  "  It  often  occurs  to  me 
when  thinking  of,  and  regretting  not  being  permitted 
to  see  the  striking  scenes  of  this  globe,  how  soon  I 
shall  be  summoned  to  see  things  inexpressibly  more 
striking  and  awful  in  the  unknown  world  to  which 


26  CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGS 

departing  spirits  will  take  their  flight."  He  studied 
Nature  as  a  stupendous  monument  of  the  Deity,  in- 
scribed all  over  with  hieroglyphical  revelations  of  his 
character  which  he  was  intent  to  decipher.  He  saw  a 
spiritual  meaning,  a  mysticism  in  the  works  of  God, 
that  kept  him  in  awe  and  worship.  "  It  appears,"  says 
our  author,  "  that  all  things  in  the  creation  are  marked 
with  some  kind  of  characters  which  attention  may 
decipher  into  truth  ;  pervaded  by  some  kind  of  ele- 
ment which  thought  may  di-aw  out  into  instruction." 
He  severely  rebuked  in  himself  all  inattention  when 
there  was  an  opportunity  for  observation  —  saying 
once,  '•  I  am  not  observing,  T  am  only  seeing,  for  the 
beam  of  my  eye  is  not  charged  with  thought."  On 
another  occasion  he  says:  "I  am  endeavoring,  wher- 
ever I  am,  to  examine  every  object  with  the  keenest 
investigation,  conscious  that  this  is  the  best  method 
for  obtaining  knowledge  fresh  and  original.  It  was 
by  this  method  that  Dr.  Johnson  was  empowered  to 
display  human  characters  in  his  '  Rambler,'  and  Thom- 
son to  desci'ibe  Nature  in  his  '  Seasons.'  It  is  impos- 
sible to  adapt  many  kinds  of  instruction  with  precis- 
ion, without  that  minute  and  uncommon  knowledge 
which  observation  alone  can  supply." 

This  taste  gave  a  character  and  coloiing  to  all  his 
writings.  "  I  have  taken,"  he  again  says,  "  many  soli- 
tarj"^  walks,  and  with  a  book  and  pencil  in  my  hand 
have  done  my  best  to  catch  all  the  ideas,  images,  ob- 
jects, aud  reflections,  that  the  most  beautiful  aspects 
and  scenes  of  nature  could  supply.  In  company,  I 
can  not  actually  take  this  book  and  pencil,  but  I  en- 
deavor to  seize  fast  every  remarkable  circumstance, 
and  each  disclosure  of  character  that  I  witness;  and 


OP    JOHN    FOSTER.  27 

then  when  I  return  to  my  room,  these  go  by  dozens 
into  my  book."  —  "Observations  on  facts  and  of  tlie 
living  world  have  perhaps  on  some  subjects  given  me 
the  feeling  of  having  better  materials  for  forming  opin- 
ions than  books  could  supply."  Gathcied  from  fields 
and  gardens  —  common  and  extraordinary  scenes  of 
life — his  thoughts  are  not  like  those  of  so  many  of 
the  profoundest  thinkers,  who  seem  to  have  medita- 
ted only  in  the  study,  and  ruminated  only  over  books, 
—  mere  abstractions.  They  are  embodiments  and 
illustrations  of  truth  which  are  obvious  to  all,  and 
palpably  related  to  the  reason  and  observation  of 
mankind. 

Truths  are  sketched  as  associated  in  nature.  In- 
stead of  an  anatomical  figure  merely  —  an  object  of 
speculation  for  the  curious  —  we  have  the  same  ex- 
quisite structure  clothed  in  the  useful  forms  and  come- 
ly aspects  of  human  muscles,  expression,  action,  and 
beauty.  Instead  of  the  flower  distributed  and  clas- 
sified in  all  its  parts  in  a  book  of  botany,  useful  for 
scientific  investigation  at  some  times  and  to  some  in- 
dividuals, it  is  the  flower  blooming  in  the  garden  on 
a  bed  of  roses,  invested  with  its  natural  relations,  re- 
galing the  taste  of  all  by  its  beauty  and  fragi-ance. 
In  his  writings,  to  an  almost  unequalled  degx'ee, 
strength  is  adorned  with  beauty,  and  the  profound  is 
made  obvious  and  interesting  to  common  minds.  Ob- 
serving so  carefully,  generalizing  so  justly,  and  ex- 
pressing or  illustrating  thought  so  much  by  allusion 
to  the  known  and  familiar,  he  leads  us  with  more 
distinct  views,  and  more  influential  convictions,  into 
the  walks  of  philosophy,  and  the  paradise  of  senti- 


28  CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGS 

ment  that  environs  tliem,  than  ahnost  any  wiiter  of 
the  age. 

Of  other  intellectual  qualities  we  will  only  observe, 
though  he  possessed  the  soul  of  wit,  he  generally  re- 
pressed its  lighter  forms  and  verbal  expressions.  He 
once  called  the  world  "  *  an  untamed  and  untamable 
animal ;'  and  on  being  reminded  that  he  was  a  part 
of  it,  and  therefore  had  an  interest  in  its  welfare,  re- 
joined, '  Yes,  sir,  a  hair  upon  the  tail.'  On  insinceri- 
ty, affectation,  and  cant,  he  was  unsparingly  sarcas- 
tic. Some  years  ago,  the  emperor  Alexander's  piety 
was  a  favorite  theme  at  public  meetings.  A  person 
who  received  the  statements  on  this  point  with  (as 
Foster  thought)  a  far  too  easy  faith,  remarked  to  him 
that  really  the  emperor  must  be  a  very  good  man ! 
•  Yes,  six-,'  he  replied  gravely,  but  with  a  significant 
glance,  'a  very  good  man  —  very  devout:  no  doubt 
he  said  srrace  before  he  swallowed  Poland  !'  " 

This  quality  of  his  mind  is  developed  in  that  deep 
vein  of  sarcasm  that  runs  through  a  considerable  por- 
tion of  his  writings ;  not  replete  with  extravagances 
and  expressions  of  spleen  —  not  forced  and  vulgar  — 
but  easy  and  dignified.  His  eloquence  is  not  the  re- 
sult of  managing  ingenuity,  ostentation  of  learning, 
and  pompous  phrase,  that  so  often  freezes  feeling 
even  amid  elevation  of  thought  and  brilliant  senti- 
ment. The  pure  force  of  sense,  of  plain,  downright 
sense,  was  so  great  as  to  reach  the  elevation  of  elo- 
quence, even  without  the  aid  of  a  happy  image  or 
brilliant  explosion.  But  superlative  intellect  —  the 
grand  distinction  of  his  wntings  —  is  adorned  with 
imagery  ;  and  there  is  a  fulness  of  sentiment  and  emo- 


OF    JOHN    FOSTER.  29 

tion,  of  simple  and  energetic  feeling,  t})at  rises  and 
glows  in  the  most  fervid  and  sublime  eloquence. 

Passing  from  the  intellectual  to  the  literary  char- 
acter of  Foster'' s  loritivgs — from  the  originality,  com- 
pass, and  heauty  of  his  thoughts,  to  the  manner  of 
their  embodiment  and  illustration  in  langiiage  —  it  is 
obvious  that  no  productions  in  the  English  language 
have  been  composed  with  more  care  —  more  of  the 
"labor  limse,"  than  his  graver  works.  He  says, 
when  approaching  a  literary  project,  "  I  linger  hours 
and  hours  often,  before  I  can  resolutely  set  about  it ; 
and  days  and  weeks,  if  it  is  some  task  more  than  or- 
dinary."—  "What  an  effort  to  reduce  the  wide,  re- 
mote, and  shadowy  elements  of  thought,  to  what  I 
am  willing  to  believe  is  definite  expression  !"  — "  No 
language  I  can  easily  find  would  exaggerate  my  most 
real,  sincere,  and  habitual  horz'or  of  the  implements 
of  writing.  I  literally  never  wrote  a  letter,  or  a  page, 
cTi"  paragraph  for  printing,  without  an  effort  which  I 
felt  a  pointed  repugnance  to  make."  —  "I  honestly 
believe  I  have  nevei',  at  any  one  time,  written  the 
amount  of  a  single  page  (of  course,  not  including  let- 
ters), ^vithout  a  painfully-repugnant  sense  of  toil; 
such  a  sense  of  it  as  always  ^diVTnoxe  than  to  ovex'bal- 
ance  any  sense  of  pleasure ;  and  such  as,  in  ninety- 
nine  cases  out  of  a  hundred,  quite  to  annihilate  any 
such  feeling  of  pleasui'e."  He  speaks  of  spending 
on  each  of  the  Broadmead  semi-monthly  lectures  as 
much  labor  perhaps  as  it  is  usual  to  bestow  on  the 
five  or  six  sermons  exacted  in  the  fortnight  of  a 
preacher's  life.  In  preparation  for  a  literary  task  he 
speaks  of  going  about  "  reading,  comparing,  select- 


30  CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGS 

ing,  digesting,  trying  to  condense,  with  such  an 
amount  of  still  unsatisfactory  labor  as  no  one  can 
imagine."  He  speaks  of  never  being  able  to  elabo- 
rate anything  near  so  much  as  one  printed  page  per 
day  ;  and  of  never  writing  so  much  as  one  such  page 
of  composition  without  feeling  faint  and  sick.  "My 
knees  have  literally  trembled  under  me  all  this  day 
in  consequence  of  rather  a  hard  effort  during  part  of 
the  preceding  day."  He  was  haunted  with  something 
like  a  sense  of  duty  to  continue  writing,  while  hi^ 
aversion  to  the  employment  was  increasing,  and  his 
execution  became  slower  and  more  laborious. 

This  intense  mental  exertion  arose  from  superior 
strength  of  mind,  challenged  and  directed  by  an  ex- 
quisitely delicate  taste.  That  he  could  have  written 
a  score  of  volumes  of  higher  intellectual  order  than 
nine  tenths  of  the  approved  English  literature,  no  one 
will  doubt  who  has  read  any  portion  of  his  desultory 
cori-espondence.  The  difference  between  the  elabo- 
rate and  more  hasty  works  of  genius  is  no  more  ap- 
preciated by  the  multitude  than  the  difference  be- 
tween the  chef  d' CEUV re  iinU  an  inferior  production  of 
art.  They  judge  of  the  artist  by  the  number  of  his 
paintings,  the  yards  of  canvass  he  has  used,  and  the 
freedom,  boldness,  and  glare  of  his  coloring;  while 
all  the  vast  outlay  of  thought  and  laborious  execu- 
tion, after  the  rough  draught  of  a  few  days,  reaching 
to  the  limit  of  months  and  perhaps  of  years,  is  lost 
upon  them.  So  the  mass  of  readers  admire  little  more 
Pope's  "  Essay  on  Man,"  Gray's  "  Elegy,"  and  But- 
ler's "  Analogy,"  than  certain  smart,  free  productions, 
that  will  be  forgotten  with  their  authors,  and  the  pa- 
tronage that  gave  them  character. 


OP    JOHN    FOSTER.  31 

The  labor  of  genius  in  proportion  as  it  is  expend- 
ed upon  exquisite  adjustment  and  extreme  elabora- 
tion, rises  above  common  a})preciation.  "  How  of- 
ten," says  I'oster,  "I  have  spent  the  whole  day  in 
adjusting  two  or  three  sentences,  amid  a  perplexity 
about  niceties,  which  would  be  far  too  impalpable  to 
be  even  comprehended,  if  one  were  to  state  them, 
by  the  gi-eatest  number  of  readers  !  Neither  is  the 
reader  aware  how  often,  after  this  has  been  done,  the 
sentences  or  paragraphs  so  adjusted  were,  after  sev- 
eral hours'  deliberation  the  next  day,  all  blotted  out." 
In  this  intense  mental  exei'tion  he  was  not  ensraeed 
in  aimless  pursuit,  or  beating  the  air,  but  advancing 
his  productions  by  perceptible  steps  farther  toward 
perfection,  whose  beau-ideal  beckoned  him  forward, 
and  cheered  his  toil. 

One  point  particularli/  aimed  at  in  tJiis  laborious 
manner  of  composition  was  to  preserve  a  ^^  special  truth 
and  consistency  in  all  language  involving  figure ;" 
and  to  prune  away  all  superfluity  of  image,  ichich  ra- 
ther displayed  the  ingenuity  and  fertility  of  the  au- 
thor's  mind,  than  his  suhject.  In  pursuing  a  main 
object,  many  writers,  perhaps  because  it  is  not  con- 
ceived with  sufficient  distinctness  to  repiess  and  cast 
into  shade  other  collateral  thoughts,  introduce  a  mul- 
tifarious assemblage  of  ideas,  pleasing  in  themselves, 
and  distantly  connected  with  the  subject ;  yet,  by  re- 
moteness of  bearing,  or  from  their  mere  number,  di- 
vert the  mind  from  the  main  point,  confuse  its  pei*- 
ceptions,  and  weaken  its  convictions  of  truth. 

Now,  though  Foster  possessed  an  imagination 
whose  electric  flashes  could  illumine  and  invest  ev- 
ery subject  with  its  primary  and  secondary  associa- 


32  CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGS 

tions,  and  whose  powei*  could  summon  the  most  sud- 
den and  happy  combinations  of  thought  and  pleasing 
or  forcible  images  from  the  loftiest  or  the  lowest  re- 
gion—  paradise  or  the  kennel  —  that  imagination  was 
60  obedient  to  his  judgment,  that  he  repressed  all 
collateral  ideas  and  images  that  mitrht  dazzle  but  di- 
vert  the  attention  from  the  great  purpose  in  hand. 
The  beauties  of  imagery,  he  says,  "  when  introduced 
with  a  copiousness  greatly  beyond  the  strictest  ne- 
cessities of  explanation,  should  be  so  managed  as  to 
be  like  flowery  borders  of  a  road  :  the  way  may  have 
on  each  side  every  variety  of  beauty,  every  charm  of 
shape,  and  hue,  and  scent,  to  regale  the  traveller; 
but  it  should  still  be  absolutely  a  road,  going  right  on 
with  defined  and  near  limits,  and  not  widening  out 
into  a  spacious  and  intricate  wilderness  of  these  beau- 
ties, where  the  man  that  was  to  travel  is  seduced  to 
wander."  It  is  a  fault  opposed  to  his  views  and  prac- 
tice of  simplicity,  that  Foster  points  out  so  graphically 
in  Colerido^e's  writings  :  "  Our  author  too  much  am- 
plifies  his  figurative  illustrations.  He  does  it  some- 
times in  the  way  of  merely  perfecting,  for  the  sake 
of  its  own  completeness,  the  representation  of  the 
thing  which  furnishes  the  figure,  which  is  often  done 
equally  with  philosophical  accuracy  and  poetic  beau- 
ty. But  thus  extended  into  particularity,  the  illus- 
tration exhibits  a  number  of  colors,  and  combinations, 
and  branchings  of  imagery,  neither  needful  nor  useful 
to  the  main  intellectual  purpose.  Our  author  is  there- 
fore sometimes  like  a  man,  who,  in  a  work  that  re- 
quii'es  the  use  of  wood,  but  requires  it  only  in  the 
plain,  bare  form  of  straight  poles  and  stakes,  should 
msist  that  it  shall  be  living  wood,  retaining  all  its 


OF    JOHN    FOSTER.  33 

twigs,  leaves,  and  blossoms.  Or  if  we  might  com- 
pare the  series  of  ideas  in  a  composition  to  a  military 
line,  we  should  say  that  many  of  our  author's  images 
and  even  his  abstract  conceptions  are  so  supernume- 
rarily  attended  by  so  many  related  but  secondary  and 
subordinate  ideas,  that  the  array  of  thought  bears 
some  resemblance  to  what  that  militaiy  line  would 
be,  if  many  of  the  men,  veritable  and  brave  soldiers 
all  the  while,  stood  in  the  ranks  surrounded  by  their 
wives  and  children." 

By  repressing  multiplicity  of  secondary  though  re- 
lated and  beautiful  imagery,  the  purpose  of  the  au- 
thor is  revealed  in  more  distinctness ;  as  the  main 
features  of  a  painting  are  exhibited  in  bolder  relief 
by  the  studied  repression  of  glaring  color  and  divert- 
ing figure  ;  as  a  mountain-range  secins  more  eleva- 
ted where  the  descent  to  the  plain  is  not  by  a  grada- 
tion of  spurs  and  hills ;  or  a  single  summit  appears 
more  gi'and  and  imposing  when  not  immediately  sur- 
rounded by  rival  peaks.  Foster  i-egarded  ornament 
wholly  secondary  and  subordinate,  and  even  sacri- 
ficed it  to  terseness  of  style.  He  studiously  avoided 
multiplicity  of  beautiful  allusions  and  figures  upon 
the  subordinate  ideas  or  branches  of  the  subject,  and 
reserved  the  interest  glowing  through  so  many  parts 
to  blaze  out  in  concentrated  radiance  at  the  great 
points  of  thought. 

The  intense  labor  of  composition  was  also  directed 
to  the  selection  and  collocation  oj"  words  and  sentences, 
as  well  as  to  chastening  figurative  illustration.  One 
rule  he  observed  was  the  use  of  the  plainest  words 
that  could  express  the  sense.  He  always  preferred 
the  simple  verbs   is,  does,  mahes,  to   compound   or 


■34  CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGS 

more  formal  words,  when  they  would  express  the 
sense  as  well,  as  one  of  the  chief  secrets  of  simple 
wilting.  In  the  cnticism  of  a  fiiend's  article  for  pub- 
lication, "harmless"  was  substituted  for  "innocuous." 
Recognising  the  superior  significancy  and  force  of  Sax- 
on over  Latin  terms,  he  would  say,  "  Well-being 
arises  from  well-doing,"  rather  than  "  Felicity  attends 
virtue." 

With  his  delicate  taste,  this  work  Avas  indefinite  — 
infinite.  After  the  first  toilsome  elaboration  of  the 
essays,  and  the  numerous  alterations  of  subsequent 
editions,  he  made  not  less  than  a  thousand  alterations 
in  the  last  revision  many  years  after.  "  I  dare  say  I 
could  point  out  scores  of  sentences  each  one  of  which 
has  cost  me  several  hours  of  the  utmost  exertion  of 
my  mind  to  put  it  in  the  state  in  which  it  now  stands, 
after  putting  it  in  several  other  forms,  to  each  one  of 
which  I  saw  some  precise  objection,  which  I  could, 
at  the  time,  have  very  distinctly  assigned.  And  in 
truth,  there  are  hundreds  of  them  to  which  I  could 
make  objections  as  they  now  stand,  but  I  did  not 
know  how  to  hammer  them  into  a  better  form."  — 
"  The  revision  and  correction  cost  me,  1  really  be- 
lieve, as  much  labor  as  the  whole  previous  composi- 
tion, though  composition  is  a  task  in  which  I  am  mis- 
erably slow."  —  "  My  principle  of  proceeding  was  to 
treat  no  page,  sentence,  or  word,  with  the  smallest 
ceremony  ;  but  to  hack,  split,  twist,  prune,  pull  up  by 
the  roots,  or  practise  any  other  severity  on  whatever 
I  did  not  like."  —  "It  is  amazing  what  trouble  it  is 
to  reconstruct,  in  an  amended  form,  a  single  sentence, 
when  it  includes  several  ideas,  when  you  have  to  take 
care  of  the  juncture  with  what  precedes  and  follows, 


OF    JOHN    FOSTER.  35 

and  when  you  are  resolved  it  shall  be  but  one  sen- 
tence, in  whatever  form  it  may  be  put." 

He  speaks  of"  the  difficulty  of  "  finding  proper 
words  and  putting  them  in  proper  places."  As  few 
words  are  in  truth  synonymous,  he  aimed  at  that 
ideal  perfection  in  the  use  of  language,  "  in  which 
every  conception  should  be  so  discriminative  and  pre- 
cise, that  no  two  words  which  have  the  most  refined 
shade  of  difference  in  their  meaning  should  be  equally 
eligible  to  express  that  conception."  As  the  result 
of  such  inveterate  labor  and  criticism,  his  style  is  re- 
duced with  the  greatest  pi-ecision  to  the  form  and 
expression  of  his  thought,  "Avhich  appear  not  so 
much  made  for  the  thought  as  made  hy  it,  and  often 
give,  if  we  may  so  express  it,  the  very  color  as  well 
as  the  substantial  form  of  the  idea."  — "  The  diction 
lies,  if  we  may  so  speak,  close  to  the  mental  surface, 
with  all  its  irregularities,  throughout.  It  is  therefore 
perpetually  varying,  in  perfect  flexibility  and  obse- 
quiousness to  the  ideas  ;  being  moulded  to  their  very 
shape,  with  an  almost  perfect  independence  and  avoid- 
ance of  all  set  and  artificial  foi-ms  of  expression  ;"  as 
a  thin  soil  in  a  mountainous  region  sinking  into  the 
depressions,  and  rising  to  the  elevations,  reveals  all 
the  prominences  of  the  rocky  strata  in  native  rug- 
gedness. 

In  the  use  of  qualifying  woi'ds,  his  discriminating 
taste  and  power  of  analysis  appear  almost  unrivalled. 
They  do  not  merely  fill  out  the  bulky  dimensions 
of  style,  but  are  infoi"med  with  a  nice  perception 
of  the  qualities  designated.  No  word  could  be 
spared,  or  scaicely  superseded  by  another,  without 
manifest  variation  or  reduction  of  meaning,  or  aspect 


36  CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGS 

of  the  thought.  His  style  is  distinguished  for  full- 
ness, particularity,  and  pointedness  of  expression. 
Speaking  of  the  evasion  of  serious  reflection  —  an 
avoidance  of  all  the  avenues  of  religious  thought, 
and  especially  those  conducting  to  the  Supreme  Be- 
ing—  he  inquires  "by  what  dexteiily  of  irreligious 
caution"  this  is  done.  Now,  to  many  minds,  the 
thought  would  have  seemed  adequately  expressed 
without  either  qualifying  word  ;  to  most,  it  would, 
have  appeared,  full  with  one ;  while  its  completeness 
is  given  by  his  own  sentence.  This  distinguishing  fea- 
ture of  Foster's  writings  was  hinted,  at  in  the  "  Brit- 
ish Review,"  in  the  notice  of  the  essays  at  their  first 
appearance,  in  the  terms  "exquisite  precision  of  lan- 
guage." In  a  letter  to  Hughes  with  an  apology,  he 
alludes  to  this  studied,  peculiarity  of  style.  "  I  see  a 
recognition  of  that  which  I  consider  as  the  advanta- 
geous peculiarity  of  my  diction  :  namely,  if  I  may  use 
such  a  phrase,  its  verity  to  the  ideas  —  its  being  com- 
posed of  words  and  constructions  merely  and  direct- 
ly fitted  to  the  thoughts,  with  a  perfect  disregard  of 
any  general  model,  and  a  rejection  of  all  the  set  and 
artificial  formalities  of  phraseology  in  use,  even  among 
good  writers :  I  may  add,  a  special  truth  and  consis- 
tency in  all  language  involving  figure."  And  what 
he  said  of  one  of  the  most  eminent  writers  of  the  last 
century,  is  true  of  himself:  "You  can  not  alter  his 
diction  ;  it  is  not  an  artificial  fold  which  may  be  taken 
off,  and  another  superinduced  on  the  mass  of  his 
thoughts.  His  language  is  identical  with  his  thought ; 
the  thought  lives  through  every  article  of  it.  If  you 
cut,  you  wound.     His  diction  is  not  the  clothing  of 


OF    JOHN    FOSTER.  37 

his  sentiments  —  it  is  the  skin;  and  to  alter  the  lan- 
e^uage  would  be  to  flay  the  sentiments  alive." 

In  the  great  effort  to  compress  his  style,  be  often 
employed  long  sentences  ;  believing,  contrary  to  the 
vulgar  notion  that  length  of  sentences,  instead  of  al- 
ways convicting  an  author  of  difFuseness,  furnishes  a 
capital  means  of  being  concise  —  that  "in  fact,  who- 
ever is  determined  on  the  greatest  possible  parsimony 
of  words,  must  wiite  in  long  sentences,  if  there  is 
anything  like  combination  in  his  thoughts.  For,  in 
a  long  sentence,  several  indispensable  conditionali- 
ties,  collateral  notices,  and  qualifying  or  connecting 
circumstances,  may  be  expressed  by  short  members 
of  the  sentence,  which  must  else  be  put  in  so  many 
separate  sentences ;  thus  making  two  pages  of  shoit 
Bentences  to  express,  and  in  a  much  less  connected 
manner,  what  one  well-constructed  long  sentence 
would  have  expressed  in  half  a  page :  and  yet  an 
unthinking  reader  might  very  possibly  cite  these  two 
pages  as  a  specimen  of  concise  writing,  and  such  a 
half  page  as  a  sample  of  difFuseness." 

Hence  some  professional  and  superficial  critics, 
who  would  praise  the  graceful  periods  of  elegant 
commonplace  writei's,  have  vented  their  spiteful  crit- 
icism, imbecile  telum,  upon  Foster's  heavy,  awkward, 
cumbersome  style.  The  apparent  fault  is  wholly 
owing  to  the  number  and  variety  of  ideas  clustered 
within  a  naiTow  compass.  It  may  be  easy  to  dis- 
tribute a  few  articles  of  furniture  in  a  given  room ; 
but  as  the  number  to  be  arranged  is  increased,  the 
difficulty  increases,  and  questions  of  taste  multiply. 
So  questions  of  criticism  multiply  with  compactness 
of  style  and  the  number  of  distinct  ideas  and  images. 
4 


38  CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGS 

Thoutrlit  attenuated  thvousrh  eleo^ant  sentences,  col- 
latetl  by  an  efTort  of  memory  and  tasteful  criticism, 
may  be  varied  into  an  indefinite  number  of  precise 
and  differing  modes  of  expression,  without  marring 
the  beauty,  reducing  the  compass,  impairing  the  force, 
or  distorting  the  foi'm  of  the  thought.  But  a  con- 
nexion of  sentences  riorid  with  informed  thou<Thts  can 
not  be  varied  and  readjusted  in  its  form  as  a  "  will-o'- 
the-wisp,"  a  wreath  of  flowers,  or  the  furbelow  on  a 
lady's  bonnet.  Foster's  is  not  a  lady's  style,  of  re- 
finement polished  to  feebleness,  prim  and  fastidious 
in  the  measure  of  sentences  and  tura  of  periods  ;  but 
it  is  developed  in  a  masculine  strength.  "  It  is  like 
the  statue  of  Laocoon  writhing  against  the  sei-pent; 
or  it  reminds  you  of  a  naked  athletic  wrestler  strug- 
gling to  throw  his  adversary,  all  the  veins  and  mus- 
cles stai-ting  out  in  the  effort." 

Robert  Hall  said  of  his  wiitings,  "  They  are  like  a 
great  lumber-wagon  loaded  with  gold."  A  Rocka- 
way  carriage  is  not  constructed  to  transport  heavy 
goods  and  wares,  but  for  the  indulgence  and  diver- 
sion of  hours  of  leisure  and  amusement.  A  vehicle 
of  lig^ht  thousrht  and  fancies,  to  divert  the  listless  and 
the  unthinking,  may  be  beautiful ;  a  vehicle  for  pro- 
found thought  may  be  chaste,  but  will  be  character- 
ized chiefly  by  the  beauty  of  strength.  Over  an  even 
tenor  of  commonplace  thought  it  is  easy  to  grade  a 
beautiful  and  undulating  surface  of  language ;  but 
the  bold  prominences  of  original  ideas  are  likely  to 
be  developed  in  constructions  liable  to  the  censure 
of  the  critics  who  find  their  standard  and  rules  in  the 
works  of  elegant  and  supei-ficial  writers. 

Nearly  allied  with  this  precision  in  the  use  of  words 


OF    JOHN    FOSTER,  39 

and  the  collocation  of  sentences,  is  the  arrangement  of 
the  periods,  and  the  consecutive  and  compact  order  of 
the  thoughts,  of  paragraphs,  and  sections.  As  he 
says  of  Jeremy  Taylor  :  "  You  shall  find  him  pre- 
serve a  strict  connexion  through  a  whole  folio  page; 
a  sentence  shall  be  a  complete  thought,  but  it  shall, 
at  the  same  time,  be  an  integral  and  inseparable  por- 
tion of — not  an  accumulation,  but  a  combination,  of 
—  thoughts,  which  are  assisting  one  another  by  a 
Unkedand  concentaneous  action  to  prove  or  illustrate 
some  one  truth.  The  figure  is  much  less  than  suffi- 
ciently strict,  if  I  say,  that  there  is  one  long,  identical 
rope,  and  that  every  thought,  however  richly  dressed, 
is  placed  close  behind  its  fellow,  and  giving  a  stout 
pull."  The  thoughts  and  sentences  are  formed  into 
d  pi'oper  series  and  sequence.  The  sense  is  carried 
on  in  a  train  of  finished  sentences,  each  advancing 
one  distinct  step  straight  forward,  not  dispersed  into 
a  multitude  of  small  pieces  on  either  hand.  It  ad- 
vances, if  we  may  so  express  it,  in  a  strong  naiTow 
column,  one  thought  treading  closely  and  firmly  after 
another,  and  not  hurrying  irregularly  forward  almost 
parallel  to  one  anothei". 

In  this  compactness  of  structure  he  manifestly  sur- 
passes all  his  illustrious  cotemporaries.  Chalmers 
presents  one  splendid  view  after  another  of  a  subject, 
or  aspect  of  a  thought,  slightly  varying  as  a  series  of 
separate  diagrams ;  and  by  the  repetition  and  am- 
plification, leaves  perhaps  a  fuller  and  moi'e  vivid 
impression  upon  more  obtuse  or  inattentive  minds. 
Foster  with  greater  economy  of  space  and  language, 
by  unsparing  and  tasteful  criticism,  reduces  all  the 
different  aspect  of  the  subject  to  one  rich,  elaborate 


40 


CHAUACTER    AND    WRITINGS 


and  comprehensive  panoramic  view.  Thestyle  of  the 
latter  is  the  higher  attainment  of  genius;  as  the 
comprehension  of  the  picture  of  life,  or  the  course 
of  empire  in  a  limited  and  connected  series  of  paint- 
ings is  a  greater  effort  of  genius  than  a  picture  ex- 
hibiting the  portraiture  of  a  single  individual,  or 
landscape,  or  aspect  of  society.  There  are  passagesin 
Foster's  writings  unsurpassed,  if  equalled  in  strength 
and  comprehensiveness  of  thought,  beauty  of  lan- 
guage and  imagery,  and  compactness  of  style  and 
arrangement,  by  those  of  any  writer  of  his  age. 

Mr.  Foster  teas  also  distinguisJied  by  some  marked 
social  and  moral  traits,  that  gave  direction  to  his 
jjuhlic  life,  and  have  manifested  themselves  in  the 
character  and  influence  of  his  writings.  He  was  sub- 
ject to  a  constitutional  pensiveness  of  mind  that  at 
times,  especially  in  early  life,  induced  a  recoil  from 
human  beings,  into  cold  retirement ;  "  and  to  a  timid- 
ity that  amounted  to  infinite  shyness."  He  sought 
habitually  seclusion  where  he  might  feel  as  if  "  dis- 
sociated from  the  whole  creation."  He  says  on  one 
occasion  :  "  I  know  scarcely  anij  man  by  whose 
taking  my  arm  in  walking  along  I  should  be  cordially 
gratified,  and  not  very  many  women."  Again  he  says : 
"  I  feel  this  insuperable  individuality.  Something 
seems  to  say, '  Come,  come  away ;  I  am  but  a  gloomy 
ghost  among  the  living  and  the  happy.  There  is  no 
need  of  me ;  I  shall  never  be  loved  as  I  wish  to  be 
loved,  and  as  I  could  love.  I  will  converse  with  my 
friends  in  solitude  ;  then  they  seem  to  be  within  my 
soul ;  when  I  am  with  them  they  seem  to  be  without 
it.     They  do' not  need   the  new  felicities  I  could  im- 


OF    JOHX    FOSTER.  4-1 

part;  it  is  not  generous  to  tax  tlieir  sympathies  with 
my  sorrows ;  and  these  sorrows  have  an  aspect  on 
myself  which  no  other  person  can  see.  I  can  never 
become  deeply  important  to  any  one  ;  and  the  un- 
successful effort  to  become  so  costs  too  much,  in  the 
painful  sentiment  which  the  affections  feel  when  they 
return  mortified  from  the  fervent  attempt  to  give 
themselves  to  some  heart  which  would  welcome  them 
with  a  pathetic  warmth.'  " 

On  another  occasion  he  speaks  of  having  "relapsed 
into  the  solitaire  feeling ;  must  be  a  monad.  A  trivial 
circumstance  brought  up  the  feeling  that  thus  changed 
the  current  of  the  heart.  That  feeling  was  not  of 
either  altered  opinions  or  diminished  affection,  but  a 
self-originating,  sad,  and  retiring  sentiment,  which 
seemed  to  say,  '  No  heart  will  receive  me,  no  heart 
needs  me.'  "  The  following  entries  are  found  in  his 
journal  on  the  same  subject,  in  the  vestry  of  Bat- 
tersea  meeting,  during  evening  service  :  "  Most  em- 
phatic feeling  of  my  individuality  —  my  insulated  ex- 
istence—  except  that  close  and  interminable  con- 
nexion, from  the  very  necessity  of  existence,  with  the 
Deity.  To  the  continent  of  Human  Nature,  I  am  a 
small  island  near  its  coast;  to  the  Divine  existence, 
I  am  a  ixa^W  j^eninsula."  —  "  While  Mr.D.  was  read- 
ing a  chapter  this  morning,  I  had  a  deep  feeling  of 
disliking  all  social  exercises,  unless  it  could  be  with 
an  individual  or  two  with  whom  I  could  feel  an  en- 
tire reciprocation  of  soul.  This  was  a  feeling  of 
indicidualitij,  not  of  impiety  ;  and  how  often  I  have 
experienced  it,  even  in  the  presence  of  worthy 
people  ;  a  feeling  as  if  I  could  wish  Wo  vanish  out 
of  the  room,  and  find  myself  walking  in  some  lonely 
4* 


4S  CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGS 

wood."  This  reserve  was  so  remarkable,  t''at  he 
could  have  wished  the  funeral  of  his  wife  attended 
at  midnight,  to  preclude  the  annoying  gaze  of  every 
indifferent  or  curious  spectator;  and  he  requested  as 
a  favor  that  the  officiating  clergyman  might  not  dis- 
'tinguish  him  individually  before  the  assembly  by  allu- 
sions in  his  address  or  prayers. 

This  constitutional  tendency  to  seclusion,  kept  him 
to  a  great  extent  from  active  alliance  with  public  in- 
stitutions ;  or  any  considerable  personal  association 
or  co-operation  with  the  distinguished  philanthropists 
or  Christians  of  his  time.  The  influence  of  his  co- 
temporary  and  friend  Hughes,  the  representative  of 
a  large  class  of  eminent  Chiistians,  was  felt  upon  the 
age  in  his  immediate  personal  co-operation  with  other 
individuals  and  public  institutions,  and  was  merged 
and  lost  as  to  individuality  in  the  great  stream  of 
beneficence  and  philanthropy.  Foster's  on  the  other 
hand  was  developed  in  the  seclusion  of  a  more  pri- 
vate life,  dissociated  from  others,  and  it  may  be 
traced  longer  and  with  more  evident  marks  of  inde- 
pendence and  individuality.  The  influence  of  the 
former,  has  been  reproduced  in  thousands,  incited 
by  personal  intercourse  and  example  to  a  religious 
life  and  noble  deeds;  that  of  the  latter,  by  the  direct 
communications  of  his  genius,  addressed  to  those 
who  had  never  listened  to  his  words,  or  marked  his 
example. 

But  the  element  of  7iis  character  wMcli  lias  chiefly 
determined  the  impression  and  influence  of  his  writings, 
was  an  instinctive,  discriminating ,  and  soher  henevo- 
Icnce.  He  Imd  a  moral  sense  exquisitely  acute,  a 
faculty  of  perception  singularly  keen.     It  was  not 


r- 


OF    JOHN    FOSTER. 


43 


the  mere  benevolence  of  generous  enthusiasm,  but 
more  like  that  of  the  Deity,  steady,  impartial,  and 
comprehensive. 

From  his  very  childhood  he  exhibited  an  extreme 
sensitiveness  to  the  claims  of  justice  and  humanity, 
and  an  habitual  abhorrence  of  cruelty.  He  delested 
spiders,  because  they  killed  flies ;  and  abominated 
butchers,  because  it  vv-as  their  profession  to  take  life. 
And  at  a  later  period,  in  the  instinctive  and  un- 
sophisticated exercise  of  this  feeling,  walking  with  a 
frtend  along  a  stream  where  fishermen  were  drawing 
the  net,  and  had  left  the  smaller  fish  upon  the  bardi, 
without  saying  a  word,  he  commenced  gatheiing 
them  and  throwing  them  into  the  water  to  relieve 
suffering,  and  restore  the  happiness  of  existence. 
He  privately  and  publicly  protested  against  cruelty 
to  animals. 

Blending  with  domestic  affections,  this  benevolence 
made  him  an  obedient  and  grateful  son  ;  and  though 
distance  and  the  press  of  engagements  prevented 
his  visiting  his  parents  for  several  years  before  their 
death,  its  memorials  are  left  in  the  more  frequent 
and  affectionate  correspondence  of  later  years,  and 
in  the  more  substantial  form  of  contribution  from  his 
own  limited  income  for  his  aged  mother's  support. 
Entering  conjugal  life  at  almost  the  age  of  forty, 
with  one  to  whom  he  had  been  "  irrevocably  devo- 
ted" for  several  years,  but  with  whom  an  earlier  union 
was  made  inexpedient  from  the  state  of  his  finances, 
his  benevolence  was  reflected  in  the  serene  joy  of 
his  home  for  many  years,  and  in  domestic  virtues, 
always  more  beautiful  when  adorning  the  character 
of  great  men. 


44 


CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGS 


Beyond  his  family  circle,  his  particulai'  friends 
were  selected  for  congeniality,  and  not  for  conveni- 
ence ;  he  sought  not  distinction  by  association  with 
the  great.  Finding  little  sympathy  with  ordinary 
minds,  and  restrained  fi'om  seeking  association  with 
superior  men,  by  constitutional  reserve,  he  numbei*- 
ed  few  special  friends.  Immediate  kindred  did 
not  absorb  all  his  benevolent  regards  as  with  inferior 
and  selfish  minds.  How  often  is  friendship  made  a 
cloak  for  selfishness  and  injustice  !  and  its  offices 
made  to  betray  the  littleness  and  caprice  of  a  mean 
spirit !  As  a  great  exemplar  of  human  nature  our 
Savior  was  not  unmindful  of  the  relations  of  kindred, 
but  they  were  not  allowed  to  absorb  his  sympathies, 
in  partialities  of  affection  and  beneficence.  The  im- 
pression of  Foster's  character  is  similar.  His  love 
of  the  race  would  modify  to  proper  exercise  all  pai'- 
ticular  regards.  He  was  animated  as  by  a  master- 
passion,  with  a  comprehensive,  considerate,  and  sober 
philanthropy. 

In  purchasing  small  wares  fi'om  the  poor  he  would 
often  pay  them  more  than  their  prices;  was  consid- 
erate of  the  time  and  convenience  of  tradesmen  in 
their  shops  ;  and  showed  the  greatest  sympathy  for 
the  laboring  poor,  especially  those  oppressed  in  their 
service.  In  a  letter  to  a  friend,  he  speaks  of  a  wor- 
thy dependent,  under  a  nari'ow-minded  and  exacting 
employer:  "I  saw  him  sinking  almost  to  the  dust,  in 
the  hard  sei"vice  of  that  most  mean  and  selfish  mortal, 
the  late ;  he  was  longing  to  escape  from  a  slave- 
ry poorly  paid,  and  under  which  his  health  was  evi- 
dently perishing.  The  good  man  has  escaped  from 
all   the   long   grievances  of  a  very  suffering   life; 


OF    JOHN    FOSTER  45 

and  I  have  suffered  no  loss  by  the  attempt  to  save 
him." 

He  was  charitable  toward  the  poor  in  their  minor 
offences,  on  account  of  the  temptations  of  poverty. 
If  any  person  in  peculiar  distress  were  mentioned, 
even  if  he  had  scarcely  any  personal  acquaintance 
with  the  individual,  he  would  seem  to  keep  him 
in  remembrance  and  kindly  inquire  after  his  wel- 
fare. 

His  benevolenc^in  its  more  general  and  social  op- 
eration was  veiled  in  an  apparent  gloom  and  severi- 
ty. He  had  a  deep  feeling,  at  once  mournful  and 
indignant,  of  the  "  evil  that  is  in  the  world,  especially 
in  its  varied  forms  of  base  selfishness,  fraud,  injustice, 
and  oppression,  that  gave  his  character  and  life  al- 
most the  appearance  or  cast  of  misanthropy."  He 
saw  the  debasement  of  human  nature  something  as 
we  might  suppose  a  superior  and  holy  being  from 
another  world  would  have  observed  it.  For  these 
evils  he  held  governments,  rulers,  nobles,  men  of 
wealth,  talents,  &c.,  to  a  great  extent,  responsible  ; 
and  to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  society,  he  felt  it 
necessary  to  expose  political  and  ecclesiastical  abuses 
and  corruptions.  He  plead  for  the  people  against 
oppression,  legalized  or  lawless;  and  devoted  the 
amazing  power  of  his  genius  to  the  promotion  of  so- 
cial and  moral  reforms ;  and  no  bribery  of  office  or 
emolument  could  seduce  him  from  the  sei"vice  of  the 
people  to  the  obsequious  flattery  of  crowns,  or  to  si- 
lence, any  more  than  the  angel  Gabnel  from  an  ap- 
pointed mission. 

No  man  of  equal  powers  was  perhaps  ever  found 
so  free  from  pride,  assumption,  or  impatience  toward 


46 


CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGS 


infen<)rs,  especially  sincere  Christians.  He  betrays 
no  self-importance,  never  speaking  of  his  own  wri- 
tings or  doings,  even  to  a  fault. 

Before  God  he  abased  himself.  He  saw  Him  who 
was  invisible ;  and  the  contrast  of  infinite  grandeur 
and  excellence  with  mere  nothingness  and  pollution, 
presented  itself  in  a  vivid  light  to  his  intellectual  vis- 
ion. With  him  this  humbling  view  of  self  became 
a  deeply-penetrating  emotion;  and  it  seemed  to  him 
not  less  preposterous  than  impious  to  assume  any 
other  position  than  that  of  deep  abasement  before 
the  Divine  Being.  An  extraordinary  unworldliness 
pervades  his  whole  character,  and  imparts  to  it  an 
indescribable  dignity : — 

"  He  walked  thouglitful  the  solemn,  silent  shore 
Of  that  vast  ocean  he  must  sail  so  soon." 

The  spiritual  world  rose  around  him  in  foiTns  of  stu- 
pendous and  palpable  reality,  like  a  range  of  mount- 
ain-summits leaning  against  the  same  sky,  piercing 
the  same  heavens,  and  pointing  to  the  same  stars,  the 
silent  sentinels  of  nature,  the  same  age  after  age. 
All  terrestrial  scenes  in  comparison  were  like  the 
landscape,  forests,  habitations,  generations  of  men, 
tribes  of  animals,  flocks  and  herds  of  shepherds,  upon 
which  these  summits  look  down,  ever  changing,  ever 
passing  away.  This  persuasion  of  the  Divine  Provi- 
dence extended  to  a  oelief,  to  a  moderate  extent,  in 
what  would  be  generally  esteemed  supernatural  ap- 
pearances and  revelations.  There  was  an  earnest 
longing,  not  unmixed  with  hope,  that  a  ray  of  light 
from  this  quarter  might  gleam  across  the  shaded 
frontiers. 


OF    JOHN    FOSTER.  47 

He  was  apt  to  be  invaded  by  gloomy  sentiments 
respecting  the  awful  moral  condition  of  our  nature, 
and  the  tremendously  mysterious  economy  of  the  Di- 
vine government.  "  At  some  moments  of  my  life," 
he  says,  "  the  world,  mankind,  religion,  and  eternity, 
appear  to  me  like  one  vast  scene  of  tremendous  con- 
fusion, stretching  before  me  far  away,  and  closed  in 
shades  of  the  most  awful  darkness  ;  a  darkness  which 
only  the  most  powerful  splendors  of  Deity  can  illu- 
mine, and  which  appear  as  if  they  never  yet  had  illu- 
mined it." 

These  difficulties  will  sui-prise  inferior  minds  not 
capable  of  tracing  out  the  more  difficult  relations  of 
truth  in  every  direction  running  into  mystery ;  and 
some,  influenced  by  envy  or  bigotry,  will  attempt  to 
asperse  his  reputation  by  harsli  epithets.  Narrow 
and  perverse  minds,  that  would  sooner  carp  at  sup- 
posed spots  in  the  sun,  than  rejoice  in  its  light  beam- 
ing upon  them  and  the  world,  may  enviously  point 
out  and  censoriously  ciiticise  isolate  sections  or  pas- 
sages. His  adventurous  mind  did,  especially  in  re- 
gard to  future  punishment,  raise  questions  of  specu- 
lation beyond  the  limits  of  the  human  understanding. 
If  any  suppose  his  views  upon  that  subject  are  not 
certainly  and.  necessarily  contrary  to  revelation,  all 
will  agree  that  they  lie  beyond  its  scope;  and  if  true, 
would  never  have  been  revealed,  as  being  liable  to 
be  abused,  and  not  calculated  to  succor  virtue  or  re- 
press vice..  But  to  attempt  to  an-ay  him  on  the  side 
of  modern  universalism,  as  practically  developed  in 
England  and  in  this  country,  would  be  like  associa- 
ting Michael  with  the  evil  angels  fighting  against 
truth,  holiness,  and  God. 


48 


CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGS 


Though  decided  in  his  religious  opinions,  denomi 
national  partialities  were  not  allowed  to  degenerate 
into  sectarian  littleness.     He  despised  "  the  circle  or 
spell  of  any  denomination  as  a  party  of  systematics 
professing  a  monopoly  of  truth."     Religion  had  been 
so  far  coiTupted  and  clogged  by  the  forms  of  religion, 
that  he  was  jealous  of  all  forms,  even  the  simple  and 
admissible,  lest  they  should  become  invested  with  the 
tyranny  of  superstition.     As  the  virtue  of  ordination 
consists  in  the  selection  and  appointment  with  reli- 
gious service  or  prayer,  he  would  have  been  willing 
and  even  preferred  to  waive  anything  more  formal 
or  institutional.     But  still  he  did  not  attach  great  im- 
portance to  that  matter  —  was  not  "particularly  ap- 
prehensive of  infection  in  that  rag  of  popery."     He 
so  loathed  the  superstitious  forms  of  corrupt  and  in- 
stituted religions  that  have  frowned  upon,  oppressed, 
and  crushed  the  race  —  so  loved  the  freedom  of  Chris- 
tianity, that,  like  baptists  generally,  and  perhaps  with 
deeper  conviction,  he  would  have  no  ordinances  of 
recuning  appointment  observed  but  public  worship 
and  the  Lord's  supper. 

His  anxious  curiosity  about  the  future  was  quick- 
ened by  the  approach  of  death  and  the  decease  of 
friends.  After  the  demise  of  any  acqliaintance,  he 
seemed  impatient  to  be  made  acquainted  with  the 
secrets  of  the  invisible  world.  On  one  such  occa- 
sion, rather  more  than  one  year  before  his  own  de- 
parture, he  exclaimed,  "  They  don't  come  back  to 
tell  us!"  —  then,  after  a  short  silence,  emphatically 
striking  his  hand  upon  the  table,  he  added,  with  a 
look  of  intense  seriousness,  "  but  we  shall  know  some 
time."     After  the  death  of  his  son,  he  says  :  "  I  have 


OF    JOHN    FOSTER.  49 

thouctt  of  him  as  now  in  another  world,  with  the 
questions  rising  again, '  ^Vliere,  oh  !  where  ?  in  what 
manner  of  existence  1  amid  what  scenes,  and  revela- 
tions, and  society  1  with  what  remembrances  of  this 
world,  and  of  us  whom  he  has  left  behind  in  it?'  — 
questions  so  often  breathed,  but  to  which  no  voice 
replies.  What  a  sense  of  wonder  and  mystery  over- 
powers the  mind,  to  think  that  he  who  was  here  — 
whose  last  look,  and  words,  and  breath,  I  Avitnessed 
—  whose  eyes  I  closed  —  whose  remains  are  mould- 
ering in  the  earth  not  far  hence  —  should  actually  be 
now  a  conscious  intelligence,  in  another  economy  of 
the  universe  !"  —  "  How  full  of  mystery,  and  wonder, 
and  solemnity,  is  the  thought  of  where  he  may  be 
now,  and  what  his  employments,  and  how  divine  the 
rapture  of  feeling  with  infinite  certainty  that  he  has 
begun  a  never-ending  life  of  progressive  joy  and 
glory !"  Reflecting  upon  the  death  of  his  wife,  he 
inquires  :  "  Oh,  what  is  the  transition  1  ...  It  is  to  be 
past  death  —  to  have  accomplished  that  one  amazing 
act  which  we  have  yet  undone  before  us,  and  are  to 
do.  It  is  to  know  what  that  awful  and  mysterious 
thing  is,  and  that  its  pains  and  terrors  are  gone  past 
for  ever.  '  I  have  died,'  our  beloved  friend  says  now, 
with  exultation,  *  and  I  live  to  die  no  more  !  I  have 
conquered  through  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.'"  — 
"  What  is  it  to  have  passed  through  death,  and  to  be 
now  looking  upon  it  as  an  event  behind  —  an  event 
from  which  she  is  every  moment  further  removing; 
when  so  lately,  when  but  a  few  days  since,  she  was 
every  moment,  as  all  mortals  are,  approaching  nearer 
and  nearer  to  it  I  What  must  be  the  thoughts,  the 
emotions,  on  closely  comparing  these  two  states,  un- 
5 


60 


CHARACTER    AND    WRITINGS 


dor  the  amazing  impression  of  actual  experience  1 
How  many  dark  and  most  interesting  and  solemn 
questions  (as  they  are  to  us  —  as  they  recently  were 
to  her)  are  now,  to  her,  questions  no  longer !" 

Few,  however,  endowed  with  his  originality  and 
independence  of  mind,  his  love  and  power  of  specu- 
lation, have  held  so  consistent  and  firm  a  faith.     He 
maintained  steadfastly  the  fundamental  doctiines  of 
revelation  —  the  runiod  state  of  man;   the  necessity 
of  a  Divine  intervention  ;  atonement  by  a  Divine  Me- 
diator; and  of  regeneration  by  the  Holy  Spirit.     At 
an  early  period  of  life,  after  his  most  painful  conflicts, 
he  writes  to  Mr.  Hughes  :  "  The  greatest  part  of  my 
views  are,  I  believe,  accurately  Calvinistic  ;  for  a  long 
while  past  I  have  fully  felt  the  necessity  of  dismissing 
subtle  speculations  and  distinctions,  and  of  yielding 
an  humble,  cordial  assent  to  the  mysteiious  truth,  just 
as  and  because  the  Scriptures  declare  it,  without  in- 
quiring '  How  cah  these  things  be  V     Even  at  the 
time  I  refer  to,  I  had  not  the  slightest  doubt  respect- 
ino-  the  doctrine  of  the  atonement.     I  have  always, 
without  the  interval  of  a  moment,  deemed  it  a  grand 
essential  of  Christianity."  — "  I  am  verily  persuaded 
that  no  man  embraces  this  part  of  the  gospel  with  a 
firmer  belief  or  a  warmer  joy  than  I  do.     I  solemnly 
aver  that  all  my  habitual  confidence,  as  to  what  I 
shall  become  or  accomphsh,  rests  exclusively  here. 
The  alternative  is  such  a  hope,  or  flat  despair."  — 
*'  The  doctrine  of  divine  assistance,  the  gracious  agen- 
cy of  the  Holy  Spirit,  is  infinitely  consolatory  to  me 
—  a  doctrine  without  which   I  should  sink  into  de- 
spondency and  despair."     A  short  time  before  his 
death  he  said  to  a  friend,  "  How  dreary  would  old 


OF    JOHN    FOSTER.  51 

age  and  illness  be  without  the  great  docti'ine  of  the 
atonement !" 

Aftei"  the  humblest  confession  of  delinquency  in 
bavins:  been  content  with  or  endured  such  a  low  state 
of  piety,  he  exclaims:  "Oh  what  dark  despair,  but 
foi'  that  blessed  light  that  shines  from  the  Pnnce  of 
Life,  the  only  and  all-sufficient  deliverer  from  the 
second  death  !  I  have  prayed  earnestly  for  a  genu- 
ine, penitential,  living  faith  in  him."  — "  There  is 
much  work  to  be  done  in  this  most  unworthy  soul ; 
my  sole  reliance  is  on  divine  assistance,  and  I  do  hope 
and  earnestly  trust  that  every  day  I  may  yet  have  to 
stay  on  earth  will  be  employed  as  part  of  a  period 
of  persevering  and  I  may  almost  say  passionate  peti- 
tions for  the  divine  mercy  of  Christ ;  and  so  continue 
to  the  last  day  and  hour  of  mj^  life,  if  consciousness 
be  then  granted." 

In  1842,  he  says  :  "  Within  and  without  are  the  ad- 
monitions that  life  is  hastening  to  its  close.  I  en- 
deavor to  feel  and  live  in  confoiTnity  to  this  admoni- 
tion, greatly  dissatisfied  with  myself,  having  and  seek- 
ing no  ground  of  hope  for  hereafter  but  solely  the 
all-sufficient  merits  and  atonement  of  our  Lord  and 
Savior.  If  that  gi-eat  cause  of  faith  and  hope  were 
taken  away,  I  should  have  nothing  left." 

In  October,  1843,  the  very  month  of  his  death, 
speaking  of  the  past,  he  says  :  "  Such  a  review  would 
consign  me  to  utter  despair,  but  for  my  finn  belief 
in  the  all-sufficiency  of  the  mediation  of  our  Lord." 
In  his  last  letter  to  Mr.  Hill  he  says :  "  What  would 
become  of  a  poor,  sinful  soul,  but  for  that  blessed, 
all-comprehensive  sacrifice,  and  that  intercession  at 
the  right  hand  of  the  majesty  on  high  1"     Speaking 


52      CnARACTER  AND  WRITINGS  OP  JOHN  FOSTER. 


to  an  attendant  of  his  inability  to  do  anything  that 
required  attention,  he  added,  "  But  I  can  pray,  and 
that  is  a  glorious  thing."  On  another  occasion,  in  a 
few  words  of  conversation,  he  said  with  emphasis  — 
"  Trust  in  Christ ;  trust  in  Christ."  And  again,  as 
evincing  the  tenor  of  his  thoughts  and  the  sustained 
elevation  of  his  faith,  he  was  overheard  repeating  to 
himself,  "'O  Death,  where  is  thy  sting?  O  Grave, 
where  is  thy  victory  ?  Thanks  be  to  God,  who  giv- 
eth  us  the  victory  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.'  " 
—  "  Thus  in  the  night,  entirely  alone,  but  Christ  with 
him,  October  16,  1843,  all  that  was  mortal  of  a  being 
most  '  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made,'  slept  peace- 
fully, and  expii'ed."  Few  spirits  have  passed  away 
from  earth  with  more  of  intellectual  grasp  and  pene- 
tration, or  more  of  awakened  interest  and  sublime 
expectation  to  meet  the  opening  wonders  and  gi'an- 
deui's  of  the  future  world. 

"  Soul  of  the  just !  companion  of  the  dead  ! 
Where  is  thy  home,  and  whither  art  thou  fled  ? 
Back  to  its  heavenlj'  source  thy  being  goes, 
Swift  as  the  comet  wheels  to  whence  he  rose ; 
Doomed  on  his  airy  jsath  awhile  to  bum. 
And  doomed,  like  thee,  to  travel,  and  return.  .  .  . 
From  planet  whirled  to  planet  more  remote, 
He  visits  realms  beyond  the  reach  of  thought; 
But  wlieeling  homeward,  when  his  course  is  run, 
Curbs  the  red  yoke,  and  mingles  with  the  sun  ! 
So  hath  the  traveller  of  earth  unfurled 
Her  trembling  wings,  emerging  from  the  world  ; 
And  o'er  the  path  by  mortal  never  trod, 
Sprung  to  her  source,  the  bosom  of  her  God !" 


FOSTER'S    THOUGHTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

EXISTENCE,    ATTRIBUTES,    WORKS     AND    PROVIDENCE, 

OF    GOD, 

1.  Any  order  nf  serious  reflection  leads  to  Goa. — 
The  thought  of  virtue  would  suoforest  the  thous^ht  of 
both  a  lawgiver  and  a  revvarder  ;  the  thought  of  crime, 
of  an  avenger;  the  thought  of  sorrow,  of  a  consoler; 
the  thought  of  an  inscrutable  mystery,  of  an  intelli- 
gence that  understands  it;  the  thought  of  that  ever- 
moving  activity  which  prevails  in  the  system  of  the 
universe,  of  a  supreme  agent ;  the  thought  of  the  hu- 
man family,  of  a  great  father  ;  the  thought  of  all  being 
not  necessary  and  self-existent,  of  a  creator ;  the 
thought  of  life,  of  a  preserver ;  and  the  thought  of 
death,  of  an  uncontrollable  disposer.  By  what  dex- 
terity, therefore,  of  irreligious  caution,  did  you  avoid 
precisely  every  track  where  the  idea  of  him  would 
have  met  you,  or  elude  that  idea  if  it  came  ?  And 
what  must  sound  reason  pronounce  of  a  mind  which, 
in  the  train  of  millions  of  thoughts,  has  wandered  to 
all  things  under  the  sun,  to  all  the  permanent  objects 
or  vanishing  appearances  in  the  creation,  but  never 
fixed  its  thought  on  the  Supreme  Reality;  never  ap- 
proached, like  Moses,  "  to  see  this  great  sight  ?" 

2.  Omnipresence  mysteriously  veiled. — Oh  why  is 
it  so  possible  that  this  greatest  inhabitant  of  every 


UK 


54  FOSTF.U'S    THOUGHTS. 

place  where  men  are  living  shoukl  be  the  last  whose 
society  tliey  seek,  or  of  wliose  being  constantly  near 
them  they  feel  the  importance  ?  Wliy  is  it  possible 
to  be  surrounded  with  the  intelligent  Reality,  which 
exists  wherever  we  are,  with  attributes  that  are  infi- 
nite, and  not  feel,  respecting  all  other  things  which 
may  be  attempting  to  press  on  our  minds  and  affect 
their  character,  as  if  they  retained  with  difficulty 
their  shadows  of  existence,  and  were  continually  on 
the  point  of  vanishing  into  nothing  ?  AVhy  is  this 
stupendous  Intelligence  so  uetired  and  silent,  while 
present,  in  all  the  scenes  of  the  earth,  and  in  all 
the  paths  and  abodes  of  men?  Why  does  he  keep 
his  glory  invisible  behind  the  shades  and  visions  of 
the  material  world  ?  Why  does  not  this  latent  glory 
sometimes  beam  forth  with  such  a  manifestation  as 
could  never  be  forgotten,  nor  ever  be  remembered 
without  an  emotion  of  religious  fear  ? 

3.  Enlarged  concej)twn  of  the  Deity. — How  all  lit- 
tle systematic  forms  of  theology  vanish  from  the  soul 
in  the  sublime  endeavor  to  recognise,  amid  his  own 
amazing  works,  the  Deity  of  the  universe  ! — that  is, 
to  form  such  an  idea  of  him  as  shall  be  felt  to  be  wor- 
thy to  represent  the  Creator  and  preserving  Governor 
of  such  a  scene. 

4.  Overawing  sense  of  God's  omniscience. — How  is 
it  possible  to  forget  the  solicitude  which  should  ac- 
company the  consciousness  that  such  a  being  is  con- 
tinually darting  upon  us  the  beams  of  observant 
thought  (if  we  may  apply  such  a  term  to  Omnisci- 
ence) ;  that  we  are  exposed  to  the  piercing  inspection 
compared  to  which  the  concentrated  attention  of  all 
the  beings  in  the  universe  besides  would  be  but  as 
the  powerless  gaze  of  an  infant  ?  Why  is  faith,  that 
faculty  of  spiritual  apprehension,  so  absent,  or  so  in- 
comparably more  slow  and  reluctant  to  receive  a  just 
perception  of  the  grandest  of  its  objects,  than  the 
senses   are   adapted  to  receive   the  impressions  of 


BEIXG    AND    ATTRIBUTES    OF    GOD.  55 

theirs  1  While  there  is  a  Spirit  pervading  the  uni- 
verse with  an  infinite  energy  of"  being,  why  have  the 
few  particles  of  dust  which  enclose  ottr  spirits  the 
power  to  intercept  all  sensible  communication  with 
it,  and  to  place  them  as  in  a  vacuity,  where  the  sacred 
Essence  had  been  precluded  or  extinguished  ? 

5.  A  contemplation  of  God  as  a  Spirit — invisi- 
ble in  his  2)resencc,  adapted  to  airahen  aice  and  ap- 
2>rekensiou. — Much  is  seeing,  feeling  man  actuated 
by  the  objects  around  him.  All  his  powers  are  roused, 
impelled,  directed,  by  impressions  made  on  his  sen- 
sitive organs ;  yet  objects  of  sense  have  only  a  defi- 
nite force  upon  him.  A  hundred  weight  crushes  a 
man's  stren2;th  to  a  certain  degree,  and  no  more  :  he 
sustains  and  bears  it  away.  On  the  edge  of  the  ocean 
he  may  tremble  at  the  vast  expanse,  but  he  tries  the 
depth  near  the  shore,  and  finds  it  but  a  few  feet,  and 
no  lontjer  fears  to  enter  it.  The  waves  can  not  over- 
top  his  head  ;  or,  is  it  deep  1 — he  can  swim,  and  no 
longer  regards  it  with  fear.  Nay,  he  builds  a  ship, 
and  makes  this  tremendous  ocean  his  servant,  wields 
its  vastucss  for  his  own  use,  dives  to  its  deep  bottom 
to  rob  it  of  its  treasures,  or  makes  its  surface  convey 
him  to  distant  shores.  A  much  smaller  object  shall 
affect  him  more,  when  his  senses  are  less  distinctly 
acted  upon,  but  his  imagination  is  somewhat  aroused. 
When  he  travels  in  the  dark,  he  starts  at  a  slis:ht  but 
indistinct  noise ;  he  knows  not  but  it  may  be  a  wild 
beast  lurking,  or  a  robber  ready  to  seize  on  him. 
Could  he  have  distinctly  seen  what  alarmed  him,  he 
had  undauntedly  passed  on  ;  it  was  only  the  moving 
of  the  leaves  waved  gently  by  the  wind.  He  stops, 
he  considers  well,  for  he  hears  the  sound  of  water 
falling;  a  gleam  from  its  foaming  surface  sparkles  in 
his  eye,  but  he  can  not  tell  how  near  to  it,  or  how 
di.stant;  bow  exactly  it  might  be  in  his  path;  how 
tremendously  deep  the  abyss  into  which  he  may  fall 
at  the  next  step.     Had  it  been  daylight,  could  he 


5Q  Foster's  thoughts. 

have  examined  it  thorouglily,  he  had  then  passed  it 
without  notice  ;  it  is  only  the  rill  of  a  small  ditch  in 
the  roadside ;  his  own  foot  could  have  stopped  the 
trickling  curient.  This  effect  of  indistinctness  rous- 
ing the  imagination  is  finely  depicted  in  Job  iv.  14. 
Eliphaz  describes  it  thus  :  "  Fear  came  upon  me  and 
trembling,  which  made  all  my  bones  to  shake.  Then 
a  spirit  passed  before  my  face;  the  hair  of  my  flesh 
stood  up :  it  stood  still,  but  I  could  not  discern  the 
foi'm  thereof."  The  senses  in  this  descnption  are 
but  slightly  affected :  the  eye  could  not  discern  any 
specific  form,  the  touch  could  not  examine  the  pre- 
cise nature  of  the  object;  the  imagination  therefore 
had  full  scope,  the  mind  was  roused  beyond  the  pow- 
er of  sensible  objects  to  stimulate  it,  and  the  body 
felt  an  ao:itation  grreater  than  if  its  senses  had  been 
more  fully  acted  upon.  "  He  trembled,  the  hairs  of 
his  flesh  stood  up.  He  could  not  discern  the  form," 
it  might  therefore  be  terrific  in  its  shape  or  tremen- 
dous in  its  size.  "  It  stood  still,"  as  if  to  do  some- 
thing to  him ;  to  speak ;  perhaps  to  smite  or  to  de- 
stroy !  And  how  could  he  guard  against  that  which 
he  could  not  see,  could  not  tell  whence  or  what  it 
was;  that  which,  from  what  he  could  discover,  and 
still  more  from  what  he  could  not  discover,  seemed 
to  be  no  mortal  substance  to  which  he  was  accus- 
tomed, and  with  which,  with  care  and  courage,  he 
might  deal  safely  ;  but  a  spirit  utterly  beyond  his  im- 
pression, having  unknown  power  to  impress  even  him, 
who  can  tell  in  what  degree  1  The  certainty  of  an 
object  so  near  him,  joined  to  the  uncertainty  of  what 
might  be  his  powers,  intentions,  and  natural  opera- 
tions, impressed  him  deeply  with  awe,  expectation, 
and  anxiety.  How  absurd,  then,  how  contrary  to 
all  their  feeling-s  in  other  cases,  is  the  conduct  of  in- 
fidels  who  affect  to  despise  God — to  deny  his  exist- 
ence because  they  can  not  see  him — or,  without  af- 
fecting this,  do  actually  forget  and  do  him  despite, 


BEING    AND    ATTRIBUTES    OF    GOD.  57 

by  occasion  of  this  circumstance  !  men  who  can  be 
appalled  nt  some  distant  danger,  and  grow  courage- 
ous at  what  is  near  at  hand — who  tremble  at  a  fel- 
low-man, or  crawling  reptile,  and  only  show  hardi- 
hood when  their  foe  is  Almighty. 

"Without  inquiring  what  Eliphaz  saw,  let  us  apply 
these  ideas  to  the  Supreme  Being ;  let  us  meditate  on 
an  object  of  infinitely  greater,  nearer  importance — 
"  the  invisible  God,"  the  most  impressively  important 
because  invisible.     Let  us,  for  a  moment,  suppose  the 
contrary  to  be  the  case  :  suppose  the  Deity  to  be  the 
object  of  our  senses — he  then  loses  much  of  his  maj- 
esty; he  becomes  fixed  to  one  spot,  that  in  which  we 
can  see  him.     He  must  be  distant  from  many  other 
places,  and  when  revealing  himself  in  other  places, 
must  be  far  distant  from  us,  even  at  a  time  when  we 
most  need  his  presence.     Nay,  we  should  begin  to 
compute  him  ;  to  philosophize  upon  and  attempt  ex- 
periments with  him.     Were  he  vast   as  the  stany 
heavens,  we  could  measure  him  ;   bright  as  yonder 
sun,  we  could  contrive  to  gaze  at  him  ;  energetic  as 
the  vivid  lightning,  we  could  bring  him  down  to  play 
around  us.     In  no  form  can  we  conceive  of  his  being 
an  object  of  sense,  but  we  sink  him  to  a  creature ; 
give  him  some  definable  shape,  reduce  him  to  a  man 
or  mere  idoh  and  we  have  need  to  provide  him  a  tem- 
ple made  with  hands  for  his  accommodation.     If,  in- 
deed, there  were  any  doubt  of  his  existence  (but  that 
man   is   incapable  of  reasoning  who   reasons  thus), 
there  are  proofs  enough  that  he  is  at  our  right  hand, 
though  we  do  not  see  him  ;  that  he  works  at  our  left 
hand^  though  we  can  not  behold  him.     Instead  of 
asking,  with  a  sneer  of  doubt,  "Where  is  he?"  oi 
carelessly  thinking  thus",  "  Shall  God  see  1"  a  much 
more  rational  method  is  with  awe  and  reverence  to 
say,  "  Whifher  shall  I  flee  from  thy  presence  1  thou 
hast  beset  me  behind  and  before,  and  laid  thy  hand 
upon  me."     Could  any  supposition  take  place  even 


58  Foster's  xnouoHTs. 

of  his  momentajy  absence — that  he  was  far  off,  or  on 
a  journey,  or  asleep,  ami  must  needs  be  awaked — it 
might  be  alleged  to  sanction  the  careless,  piovided 
they  were  aware  of  his  absence,  or  knew  the  time  of 
his  drowsiness  or  distance ;  but  an  omnipresent  Al- 
mighty ought  to  fill  us  with  seriousness,  and  the  un- 
certainty of  his  operations,  when,  how,  and  where 
he  will  work,  should  fill  us  with  deep,  lasting,  and  con- 
stant awe.  He  exists  :  the  thought  makes  a  temple 
in  every  place  I  may  be  in;  to  realize  it,  is  to  begin 
actual  worship  ;  whatever  I  may  be  about,  to  indulge 
it  is  to  make  all  other  existence  fade  away.  Amid 
the  roar  of  mirth  I  hear  only  his  voice ;  in  the  glitter 
of  dissipation  1  see  only  his  brightness;  in  the  midst 
of  business  I  can  do  nothing  but  pray.  He  is  pres- 
ent!  what  may  he  not  see  ?  The  actions  of  my  hands 
he  beholds  !  the  voice  of  my  words  he  hears  !  the 
thoughts  of  my  heart  he  discerns  !  Could  T  see  him, 
I  might  on  this  side  guard  against  his  penetrating 
eye,  or  on  the  other  side  act  something  in  secret,  safe 
from  his  inspection ;  but  present,  without  my  being 
able  to  discern  him,  I  ought  to  be  watchful  every 
way ;  the  slightest  error  may  fill  us  with  awful  ap- 
prehensions. Even  now,  says  conscience,  he  may 
be  preparing  his  vengeance,  whetting  his  glittering 
sword,  or  drawing  to  a  head  the  arrows  of  destruc- 
tion. Could  my  eye  see  his  movements,  I  might  be 
upon  my  guard  ;  might  flee  to  some  shelter,  or  shrink 
away  from  the  blow  ;  but,  a  foe  so  near,  and  yet  so 
indiscernible,  may  well  alarm  me,  lest  the  act  of  ini- 
quity meet  with  an  immediate  reward  ;  the  blasphe- 
mous prayer  for  damnation  receive  too  ready  an  an- 
swer from  his  hot  thunderbolt  !  He  is  a  Spirit :  what 
can  he  not  do  'i  Vast  are  hie  powers,  quick  his  dis- 
cernments, invisible  his  operations  !  No  sword  can 
reach  him,  no  shield  of  brass  can  protect  against  him, 
no  placid  countenance  deceive  him,  no  hypocritical 
supplications  impose  ujson  him.     He  is  in  my  inmost 


BEING    AND    ATTRIBUTES    OF    GOD.  59 

thouc^lits — in  every  volition  ;  he  supports  the  nego- 
tiatiiig  principle  whilr  it  determines  on  its  rebellions, 
or  plans  some  mode  by  wliich  to  elude  his  all-pene- 
tratinsf  perception.  Vain  is  every  attempt  at  evasion 
or  resistance.  "God  is  a  Spirit  ;"  is  present  every 
moment,  surrounds  every  object,  watches  my  steps 
and  waits  upon  me,  though  I  can  not  discern  his  form, 
his  measure,  his  power,  or  direct  his  movements.  I 
see  him  before  my  face  in  the  bright  walks  of  nature, 
but  I  can  not  discern  his  form.  The  rich  landscape 
shows  him  good,  wise,  and  bounteous':  but  how  boun- 
teous, good,  or  wise,  who,  from  the  richest  landscape, 
can  be  able  to  guess  1  The  brilliant  sun  gives  a 
glimpse  of  his  brightness  ;  the  vast  starry  concave 
shows  his  immensity  ;  but  how  bright,  how  immense, 
it  were  impossible  to  say.  Hark  !  he  speaks  in  that 
bursting  thundei',  or  he  moves  in  that  crushing  earth- 
quake, he  shines  in  that  blazing  comet.  So  much  I 
can  easily  discern,  but  God  is  still  far  beyond  my 
comprehension.  I  see  nothing  but  the  hidings  of 
his  power;  himself  is  still  unknown. 

He  guides  the  affairs  of  providence.  I  see  him 
before  my  face,  but  I  can  not  behold  his  form.  Who 
but  he  could  have  raised  Pharaoh — the  Nebuchadnez- 
zar of  ancient  or  modem  times  1  Who  but  he  could 
have  rooted  up  a  firmly-fixed  throne,  and  poised  a 
mighty  nation  upon  the  slender  point  of  a  stripling's 
energies  1  I  have  seen  him  pass  before  me  in  my 
own  concerns,  leading  me  in  a  path  I  did  not  know, 
stopping  me  when  on  the  verge  of  some  destruction, 
filling  my  exhausted  stores,  and  soothing  my  wearied 
mind  to  sweet  serenity.  I  could  not  but  say,  "  This 
is  the  Lord's  doing,  it  is  mai-vellous  in  my  eyes  ;"  but 
I  can  not  discern  the  form  ;  I  know  not  what  he  will 
next  do,  nor  dare  I  walk  with  presumptuous  steps, 
or  repose  with  self-complacent  gratulation,  and  say, 
"  My  mountain  stands  strong.  I  shall  never  be  moved.'' 


60  Foster's  thoughts. 

He  hides  his  face  for  a  moment,  and  I  am  troubled  j 
he  withdraws  his  hand,  and  I  die. 

I  see  a  spirit  passinjr  before  me,  I  hear  his  voice  in 
the  secret  recesses  ;  I  find  that  there  is  a  God,  that  he 
is  near,  that  he  stands  full  in  view,  with  appalling  in- 
distinctness, so  that  I  tremble,  and  the  hairs  of  my 
flesh  stand  up  ;  yet  I  can  not  discera  the  form.  I  know 
not  what  affrights,  stops, impresses,  crushes  me.  Com- 
pany I  hate,  for  it  neither  dispels  my  sensations,  nor 
harmonizes  with  tliem.  Solitude  I  dread  ;  for  the  in- 
visible presence  is  there  seen,  and  the  unknown  God 
is  there  felt  in  all  liis  terrifying  influence.  To  deny 
that  some  one  is  acting  upon  me,  must  be  to  deny 
that  I  see,  feel,  am  anxious.  Could  I  tell  what,  or 
who,  I  might  call  the  wisdom  of  man  to  my  assist- 
ance ;  but  it  is  the  unknowable,  yet  well  known  ;  the 
indiscei-nible,  yet  surely  seen  ;  the  incomprehensible, 
intangible,  yet  fully  understood  and  ever-present  God, 
that  supports  my  trembling  frame,  and  meets  the 
warmest  wishes  of  my  too-daring  mind ;  the  resolute 
determinations,  inefficacious  exertions,  and  the  stub- 
born submission  of  an  unwilling  soul.  Ah  !  let  this 
present  Invisible  encircle  me  with  his  mercy,  defend 
me  with  his  power,  fill  me  with  his  fear,  and  save  me 
by  his  almighty  grace.  Then,  though  I  discern  not 
his  form,  I  shall  be  conscious  of  his  presence,  and 
the  delightful  consciousness  shall  fill  me  with  rever- 
ence indeed,  but  not  make  my  flesh  to  tremble.  He 
shall  sooth  my  son-ows,  inspire  my  hopes,  give  me 
confidence  in  danger,  and  supplies  in  every  necessity. 
The  consciousness  of  his  nearaess,  approbation,  and 
mercy,  shall  enable  me  to  endure  like  Moses,  as  see- 
ing Him  who  is  invisible. 

6.  Attempt  to  escape  the  Divine  presence  vain  and 
presumptuous. — When  we  withdraw  from  human  in- 
tercourse into  solitude,  we  are  more  peculiarly  com- 
mitted in  the  presence  of  the  Divinity  ;  yet  some  men 
retire  into  solitude  to  devise  or  perpetrate  crimes. 


BEING    AND    ATTRIBUTES    OF    GOD.  61 

This  is  like  a  man  going  to  meet  and  brave  a  lion  in 
his  own  gloomy  desert,  in  the  very  precincts  of  his 
dread  abode. 

7.  Grandeur  and  glory  of  God  reflected  from  his 
works. —  What  is  it,  we  would  ask,  that  comes  upon 
us  in  those  beams — in  the  beams  of  those  luminaries 
which  are  beheld  by  the  naked  eye,  next  of  those 
countless  myriads  beheld  by  the  assisted  eye,  and 
then  of  those  infinite  legions  which  can  never  be  re- 
vealed to  the  earth,  but  are  seen  by  an  elevated  im- 
agination, and  will  perhaps  bui'st  with  sudden  and 
awful  effulgence  on  the  departed  spirit]  What  is 
it,  but  the  pure  unmingled  reflection  of  Him  who 
can  not  be  beheld  in  himself,  who,  present  to  all 
things,  is  yet  in  the  darkness  of  infinite  and  eternal 
mystery,  subsisting  in  an  essence  unparticipated,  un- 
approached  by  gradation  of  other  beings,  impalpable 
to  all  speculation,  refined  beyond  angelic  perception, 
foreign  from  all  analogy  —  but  who  condescends  to 
become  visible  in  the  effects  of  his  nature,  in  the  lus- 
tre of  his  works  ? 

8.  The  universe  a  type,  —  a  symhol  of  the  greatness 
and  glory  of  the  Supreme. — The  universe,  with  all 
its  splendors  and  magnitudes,  ascertained,  conjectvir- 
ed,  or  possible,  may  be  regarded  —  not  as  a  vehicle, 
not  as  an  inhabited  form,  or  a  comprehending  sphere, 
of  the  Sovereigia  Spirit,  but  as  a  type,  which  signi- 
fies, though  by  a  faint,  inadequate  correspondence 
after  all,  that  as  great  as  the  universe  is  in  the  ma- 
terial attributes  of  extension  and  splendor,  so  great 
is  the  Divine  Being  in  the  infinitely  transcendent  na- 
ture of  spiritual  existence. 

9.  Attributes  of  God  revealed  through  the  diversity 
and  immensity  of  his  loorlis.  —  We  are  placed  amidst 
the  amazing  scenes  of  his  works  extending  on  all 
sides,  from  the  point  where  we  stand  to  far  beyond 
anything  we  can  distinctly  conceive  o{  infinity  \  in  a 
diversity  which  not  eternal  duration  will  suffice  for 

6 


62  Foster's  thoughts. 

any  creature  to  take  account  of  all ;  liaving  within 
one  day,  one  hour,  one  instant,  operations,  changes, 
appearances,  to  which  the  greatest  angel's  calculating 
faculty  would  be  nothing;  combining  design  —  order 
—  beauty  —  sublimity — utility.  Such  is  the  scene 
to  be  contemplated.  But  now  while  our  attention 
wanders  over  it,  or  fixes  on  parts  of  it,  do  we  regard 
it  but  as  if  it  were  something  existing  by  itself? 
Can  we  glance  over  the  earth,  and  into  the  wilder- 
ness of  worlds  in  infinite  space  without  being  im- 
pressed with  the  solemn  thought,  that  all  this  is  but 
the  sign  and  proof  of  something  infinitely  more  glori- 
ous than  itself?  Are  we  not  reminded  —  this  is  a  pro- 
duction of  his  Almighty  power;  —  that  is  an  adjust- 
ment of  his  all-comprehending  intelligence  and  fore- 
sight;—  there  is  a  glimmer,  a  ray  of  his  beauty,  his 
glory;  —  there  an  emanation  of  his  benignity;  —  and 
there  some  fiery  trace  of  his  justice;  —  but  for  him 
all  this  never  would  have  been  ;  —  and  if  for  a  mo- 
ment his  pervading  energy  were,  by  his  will,  restrain- 
ed or  suspended, —  what  would  it  all  be  then  1 

That  there  should  be  men,  who  can  survey  the  crea- 
tion, with  a  scientific  enlargement  of  intelligence,  and 
then  say  "  there  is  no  God,"  is  one  of  the  most  hideous 
phenomena  in  the  world. 

10.  Particularity  of  Divine  knowledge. — Think 
what  a  compass  of  vision,  and  how  much  more  he 
sees  than  we  do,  in  any  one  act  or  incident  on  which 
our  utmost  attention  may  be -fixed.  To  us  there  is 
an  unknown  part  in  every  action.  Our  attention 
leaves  one  acting  mortal  to  fix  on  another.  He  con- 
tinues to  observe  every  one  and  all.  Think  again 
while  we  are  judging.  He  is  judging !  There  is  at 
this  instant  a  perfected  estimate  in  an  unseen  mind 
of  this  that  I  am  thinking  how  to  estimate  !  — If  that 
judgment  could  lighten  on  me  and  on  its  subject ! 

11.  God  overrules  all  events. — Sometimes  in  par- 
ticular parts  and  instances  we  can  see  how  human 


BEING    AND    ATTRIBUTES    OF    GOD.  63 

actions  in  theii-  confused  mass  or  series,  have  been 
compelled  into  a  process  which  results  in  what  hu- 
man wisdom  never  could  have  predicted,  and  what 
an  immensity  of  them  is  God  compelling  at  this  very- 
hour  !  In  our  conscious  feebleness  of  intelliffence. 
It  IS  stnking  to  look  at  actions,  and  wonder  what  pur- 
pose of  his  he  can  make  those  conduce  to  —  and 
those.  Look  at  the  vast  world  of  them  ;  see  what 
kind  they  arc  ;  and  then  think  what  He  must  be 
that  can  control  them  all  to  his  supreme  purpose ! 
Yet  there  are  some  parts  of  the  riew  in  which  the 
proceeding  of  Divine  Providence  is  conspicuous  and 
intelligible.  We  see  how  sin  is  made  its  own  plague, 
even  in  this  life  ;  and  how  by  what  law  —  "holiness 
to  the  Lord"  contains  the  living  piinciple  of  happi- 
ness. And  also,  how  some  of  the  ti-ansactions  and 
events  in  the  world  are  tending  to  certain  grand  re- 
sults which  God  has  avowed  to  be  in  his  purpose. 

12.  A  helief  in  the  Divine  existence  and  sovereignty 
the  only  reliable  fotmdation  of  virtue. — That  solemn 
reverence  for  the  Deity,  and  expectation  of  a  future 
judgment,  without  which  it  is  a  pure  matter  of  fact 
that  there  is  no  such  thing  on  earth  as  an  invincible 
and  universal  virtue. 

13.  Deities  of  paganism  and  false  religion,  not  above 
crimination  themselves,  can  not,  in  their  worship  and 
moral  systems, condemn  sin  in  their  votaries. — If  there 
were  ten  thousand  deities,  there  should  not  be  one 
that  should  be  authorized  by  perfect  rectitude  in  it- 
self to  punish /^'w;  not  one  by  which  it  should  be 
possible  for  him  to  be  rebuked  without  having  a  right 
to  recriminate. 

14.  The  atheist. — To  the  atheist  there  is  nothing 
in  place  of  that  which  is  the  supremacy  of  all  exist- 
ence and  glory.  The  Divine  Spirit,  and  all  spirits, 
being  abolished,  he  is  left  amid  masses  and  systems 
of  matter,  without  a  first  cause,  niled  by  chance,  or 
by  a  blind  mechanical  impulse  of  what  he  calls  fate; 


64  poster's  thoughts. 

and  as  a  little  composition  of  atoms,  lie  is  himself  to 
take  his  chance,  for  a  few  moments  of  conscious  be- 
ing, and  then  to  be  no  more  for  ever.  And  yet  in 
this  infinite  prostration  of  all  things,  he  feels  an  ela- 
tion of  intellectual  pride. 

15.  Peculiar  illumination  of  the  atheist  questioned. 
— But  give  your  own  description  of  what  you  have 
met  with  in  a  world  which  has  been  deemed  to  pre- 
sent in  every  part  the  indications  of  a  Deity.  Tell 
of  the  mysterious  voices  which  have  spoken  to  you 
from  the  deeps  of  the  creation,  falsifying  the  expres- 
sions marked  on  its  face.  Tell  of  the  new  ideas, 
which,  like  meteors  passing  over  the  solitary  wan- 
derer, gave  him  the  first  glimpse  of  truth  while  be- 
nighted in  the  common  belief  of  the  Divine  exist- 
ence. Describe  the  whole  train  of  causes  that  have 
operated  to  create  and  consolidate  that  state  of  mind 
which  you  carry  forward  to  the  great  experiment  of 
futurity,  under  a  different  kind  of  hazard  from  all 
other  classes  of  men. 

16.  Ignorant  and  arrogant  pretensians  of  the  athe- 
ist.— The  wonder  then  turns  on  the  great  process,  by 
which  a  man  could  grow  to  the  immense  intelligence 
that  can  know  that  there  is  no  God.  What  ages  and 
what  lights  are  requisite  for  this  attainment !  This 
intelligence  involves  the  very  attributes  of  Divinity, 
while  a  God  is  denied.  For  unless  this  man  is  omni- 
present, unless  he  is  at  this  moment  in  every  place 
in  the  universe,  he  can  not  know  but  there  may  be 
in  some  place  manifestations  of  a  Deity  by  which 
even  he  would  be  overpowered.  If  he  does  not  know 
absolutely  every  agent  in  the  universe,  the  one  that 
he  does  not  know  may  be  God.  If  he  is  not  himself 
the  chief,  agent  in  the  universe,  and  does  not  know 
what  is  so,  that  which  is  so  may  be  God.  If  he  is 
not  in  absolute  possession  of  all  the  propositions  that 
constitute  universal  truth,  the  one  which  he  wants 
may  be,  that  there  is  a  God.     If  he  can  not  with  cer- 


BEING    AND    ATTRIBUTES    OF    GOD.  65 

tainty  assign  the  cause  of  all  that  he  perceives  to  ex- 
ist, that  cause  may  be  a  God.  If  he  does  not  know 
everything  that  has  been  done  in  the  immeasurabTe 
ages  that  are  past,  some  things  may  have  been  done 
by  a  God.  Thus,  unless  he  knows  all  things — that 
is,  precludes  another  Deity  by  being  one  himself — 
he  can  not  know  that  the  Being  whose  existence  he 
rejects,  does  not  exist.  But  he  must  hnoio  that  he 
does  not  exist,  else  he  deseiTes  equal  contempt  and 
compassion  for  the  temerity  with  which  he  firmly 
avows  his  rejection  and  acts  accordingly.  Surely 
the  creature  that  thus  lifts  his  voice,  and  defies  all 
invisible  power  within  the  possibilities  of  infinity, 
challenging  whatever  unknown  being  may  hear  him, 
and  may  ajipropriate  that  title»of  Almighty  which  is 
pronounced  in  scorn,  to  evince  his  existence,  if  he 
will,  by  his  vengeance,  was  not  as  yesterday  a  little 
child  that  would  tremble  and  cry  at  the  approach  of 
a  diminutive  reptile. 

17.  Certain  jyhilosojjJiers  impatient  of  tJie  ideas  of 
a  Divine  Providence  and  his  revelation  to  the  tvorld. 
— No  builders  of  houses  or  cities  were  ever  more 
attentive  to  o-uaid  against  the  access  of  inundation 
or  fire.  If  He  should  but  touch  their  prospec- 
tive theories  of  improvement,  they  would  renounce 
them,  as  defiled  and  fit  only  for  vulgar  fanaticism. 
Their  system  of  providence  would  be  profaned  by 
the  intrusion  of  the  Almighty.  Man  is  to  effect 
an  apotheosis  for  himself,  by  the  hopeful  process  of 
exhausting  his  corruptions.  And  should  it  take  all 
but  an  endless  series  of  ages,  vices,  and  woes,  to 
reach  this  glorious  attainment,  patience  may  sustain 
itself  the  while  by  the  thought  that,  when  it  is  real- 
ized, it  will  be  burdened  with  no  duty  of  religious 
gratitude.  No  time  is  too  long  to  wait,  no  cost  too 
deep  to  incur,  for  the  triumph  of  proving  that  we 
have  no  need  of  that  one  attribute  of  a  Divinity — 
which  creates  the  grand  interest  in  acknowledging 


66  Foster's  thoughts. 

such  a  Being — the  benevolence  that  would  make  us 
happy.  But  even  if  this  triumph  should  be  found 
unattainable,  the  independence  of  spirit  which  has 
labored  for  it  must  not  at  last  sink  into  piety.  This 
afflicted  world,  "  this  poor  terrestrial  citadel  of  man," 
is  to  lock  its  gates,  and  keep  its  miseries,  rather  than 
admit  the  degradation  of  receiving  help  from  God. 


/ 


EVIDENCES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  67 


CHAPTER  II. 

THOUGHTS     ON    THE     EVIDENCES     OF     RELIGION THE 

SOURCES,  PREJUDICES,  AND    TENDENCIES,   OF    SKEP- 
TICISM,  ETC. 

1.  Unsettled  J^aWi  as  unreasonable  as  presumptuous. 
— If  they  [undecided  individuals]  really  do  not  care 
enough  about  this  transcendent  subject,  to  desire, 
above  all  things  on  earth,  a  just  and  final  determina- 
tion of  their  judgments  upon  it,  we  can  only  deplore 
that  anything  so  precious  as  a  mind  should  have  been 
committed  to  such  cruelly  thoughtless  possessors.  We 
can  only  repeat  some  useless  expressions  of  amaze- 
ment to  see  a  rational  being  holding  itself  in  such  con- 
tempt ;  and  predict  a  peiiod  when  itself  will  be  still 
much  more  amazed  at  the  remembrance  how  many 
thousand  insignificant  questions  found  their  turn  to 
be  considered  and  decided,  while  the  one  involving 
infinite  consequences  was  reserved  to  be  determined 
by  the  event — too  late,  therefore,  to  have  an  auspi- 
cious influence  on  that  event,  which  was  the  grand 
object,  for  the  sake  of  wh^ch  it  ought  to  have  been 
determined  before  all  other  questions.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  hear,  with  the  slightest  degree  of  respect  of 
patience,  the  expressions  of  doubt  or  anxiety  about 
the  truth  of  Christianity,  from  any  one  who  can  delay 
a  week  to  obtain  this  celebrated  View  of  its  Eviden- 
ces, or  fail  to  read  it  through  again  and  again.  It  is 
of  no  use  to  say  what  would  be  our  opinion  of  the 
moral  and  intellectual  state  of  his  mind,  if,  after  this, 
he  remained  still  undecided.     We  regard  Dr.  Paley's 


G8  Foster's  thoughts. 

wriring-s  on  the  "Evidences  of  Christianity"  as  of  so 
signally  decisive  a  character,  that  we  would  be  con- 
tent to  let  them  stand  as  the  essence  and  the  close  of 
the  great  argument  on  the  part  of  its  believers  ;  and 
should  feel  no  despondency  or  chagrin  if  we  could 
be  prophetically  certified  that  such  an  efficient  Chris- 
tian reasoner  would  never  henceforward  arise.  We 
should  consider  the  grand  fortress  of  proof,  as  now 
raised  and  finished,  the  intellectual  capitol  of  that  em- 
pire which  is  destined  to  leave  the  widest  boundaries 
attained  by  the  Roman  very  far  behind. 

2.  Christian  itij  everything  or  nothing. — The  book 
which  avows  itself,  by  a  thousand  solemn  and  explicit 
declarations,  to  be  a  communication  from  Heaven,  is 
either  what  it  thus  declares  itself  to  be,  or  a  most 
monstrous  imposture.  If  these  philosophers  hold  it 
to  be  an  imposture,  and  therefore  an  execrable  de- 
ception put  on  the  sense  of  mankind,  how  contempti- 
ble it  is  to  see  them  practising  their  civil  cringe,  and 
uttering  phrases  of  deference  !  If  they  admit  it  to 
be  what  it  avows  itself,  how  detestable  is  their  con-* 
duct  in  advancing  positions  and  theories,  with  a  cool 
disregard  of  the  highest  authority,  confronting  and 
contradicting  them  all  the  while !  And  if  the  ques- 
tion is  deemed  to  be  yet  in  suspense,  how  ridiculous 
It  is  to  be  thus  building  up  speculations  and  systems, 
pending  a  cause  which  may  require  their  demolition 
the  instant  it  is  decided  !  Who  would  not  despise  or 
jjity  a  man  eagerly  raising  a  fitie  house  on  a  piece  of 
ground  at  the  very  time  in  -  oabtful  litigation  %  Who 
would  not  have  laughed  at  a  man  who  should  have 
published  a  book  of  geography,  with  minute  descrip- 
tions and  costly  maps,  of  distant  regions  and  islands, 
at  the  very  time  that  Magellan  or  Cook  was  absent 
on  purpose  to  determine  their  position,  or  even  verify 

.  their  existence  % 

3.  Christianity  the  supreme  pursuit. — Assembling 
into  one  view  all  things  in  the  world  that  are  impor- 


EVIDENCES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  69 

tant,  and  should  be  dear  to  mankind,  I  distinguish  the 
Christian  cause  as  the  celestial  soul  of  the  assemblage, 
evincing  the  same  pre-eminence,  and  challenging  the 
same  emphatic  passion,  which  in  any  other  case  mind 
does  beyond  the  inferior  elements ;  and  I  have  no 
wish  of  equal  energy  with  that  which  aspires  to  the 
most  intimate  possible  connexion  with  Him  who  is 
the  life  of  this  cause,  and  the  Hfe  of  the  world. 

4.  Branches  of  the  Christian  argument. — A  train 
of  miracles,  attested  in  the  most  authoritative  manner 
that  is  within  the  competence  of  history ;  the  evidence 
afforded  by  prophecies  fulfilled,  that  the  author  of 
Revelation  is  the  being  who  sees  into  futurity ;  the 
manifestation,  in  revealed  religion,  of  a  superhuman 
knowledge  of  the  nature  and  condition  of  man ;  the 
adaptation  of  the  remedial  system  to  that  condition ; 
the  incomparable  excellence  of  the  Christian  morali- 
ty ;  the  analogy  between  the  works  of  God  and  what 
claims  to  be  the  "VV'ord  of  God  ;  and  the  interposi- 
.tions  with  respect  to  the  cause  and  the  adherents  of 
religion  in  the  course  of  the  Divine  government  on 
the  earth  :  this  grand  coincidence  of  verifications  has 
not  left  the  faith  of  the  disciple  of  Christianity  at  the 
mercy  of  optics  and  geometry.  He  may  calmly  tell 
science  to  mind  its  own  aflairs,  if  it  should  presume, 
with  pretensions  to  authority,  to  interfere  with  his 
religion. 

5.  Miracles  not  incred,ihle. — We  repel  that  philos- 
ophizing spirit,  as  it  would  be  called,  which  insists  on 
resolving  all  the  extraordinary  phenomena,  recorded 
in  the  Old  Testament,  into  the  effect  o'i  merely  natu- 
ral causes ;  just  as  if  the  order  of  nature  had  been 
constituted  by  some  other  and  greater  Being,  and 
intrusted  to  the  Almighty  to  be  administered,  under 
an  obhgation  never  to  suspend,  for  a  moment,  the 
fixed  laws  !  Just  as  if  it  could  not  consist  with  infi- 
nite Wisdom  to  order  a  system  so  that  in  particular 
cases  a  greater  advantage  should  arise  from  a  mo- 


70  Foster's  thodghts. 

mentaiy   deviation  than  from   an  invariable  proce- 
dure ! 

6.  Argument  from  miracles. — Surely  it  is  fair  to 
believe  that  those  who  received  from  Heaven  super- 
human power,  received  likewise  superhuman  wisdom. 
Havino-  rung  the  great  hell  of  the  universe,  the  sermon 
to  follow  must  be  exti-aordinary. 

7.  Analogy  of  religion  to  the  course  of  Nature. — 
It  is  an  evident  and  remarkable  fact,  that  there  is 
a  certain  principle  of  correspondence  to  religion 
throughout  the  economy  of  the  world.  Things  bear- 
ing an  apparent  analogy  to  its  truths,  sometimes  more 
prominently,  sometimes  more  abstrusely,  pi'esent 
themselves  on  all  sides  to  a  thoughtful  mind.  He 
that  made  all  things  for  himself  appears  to  have 
willed  that  they  should  be  a  great  system  of  em- 
blems, reflecting  or  shadowing  that  system  of  prin- 
ciples which  is  the  true  theory  concerning  him,  and 
our  relations  to  him.  So  that  rehgion,  standing  up 
in  grand  parallel  to  an  infinity  of  things,  receives 
their  testimony  and  homage,  and  speaks  with  a  voice 
which  is  echoed  by  the  creation. 

8.  Proud  assumption  ofivfidclity. — Infidels  assume, 
in  subjects  which  from  their  magnitude  necessarily 
stretch  away  into  mystery,  to  pronounce  whatever  can 
or  can  not  be.  They  seem  to  say,  "  We  stand  on  an 
eminence  sufficient  to  command  a  vision  of  all  things  : 
therefore  whatever  we  can  not  see,  does  not  exist." 

9.  Partial  knowledge  of  Divine  economy  should  re- 
press reasoning  pride. — We  are,  as  to  the  grand  sys- 
tem and  series  of  God's  government,  like  a  man,  who, 
confined  in  a  dark  room,  should  observe,  through  a 
chink  of  the  wall,  some  large  animal  passing  by  :  he 
sees  but  an  extremely  narrow  strip  of  the  object  at 
once  as  it  moves  by,  and  is  utterly  unable  to  form  an 
idea  of  the  size,  proportions,  or  shape  of  it. 

10.  Process  of  the  physical  creation. — Darkness 
brooding,  dim  dreary  light,  herbs,  sun,  &c.    Analogy. 


EVIDENCES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  71 

Consider  the  whole  coui-se  of  time  as  the  world's 
moral  creation.  At  what  period  and  stage  in  the 
analogy  has  it  note  ariived  ? — not  moi'e  than  the  first 

day. 

11.  Christianity  beset  with  no  more  difficulties  than 
other  subjects. — The  whole  hemisphere  of  contempla- 
tion appears  inexpressibly  strange  and  mysterious. 
It  is  cloud  pursuing  cloud,  forest  after  forest,  and 
Alps  upon  Alps !  It  is  in  vain  to  declaim  against 
skepticism,  I  feel  with  an  emphasis  of  conviction, 
and  wonder,  and  regret,  that  almost  all  things  are 
enveloped  in  shade ;  that  many  things  are  covered 
with  thickest  darkness  ;  that  the  number  of  things  to 
which  certainty  belongs  is  small.  ...  I  hope  to  enjoy 
"  the  sunshine  of  the  o^ther  world."  One  of  the  very 
few  things  that  appear  to  me  not  doubtful,  is  the  truth 
of  Christianity  in  general. 

12.  Objections  to  Christianity  from  the  discoveries 
of  the  telescope  ansicered  by  those  of  the  microscope. — 
Those  who  justify  their  infidelity  by  the  discoveries 
of  the  telescope,  seem  to  have  chosen  to  forget  that 
there  is  another  instrument  which  has  made  hardly 
less  wonderful  discoveries  in  an  opposite  direction — 
discoveries  authorizing  an  inference  completely  de- 
structive of  that  made  from  the  astronomical  magni- 
tudes. And  it  is  very  gi-atifying  to  see  the  lofty  as- 
sumptions drawn,  in  a  spirit  as  unphilosophical  as 
irrehgious,  from  remote  systems  and  the  immensity 
of  the  universe,  and  advanced  against  Christianity 
with  an  air  of  iiiesistible  authority — to  see  them  en- 
countered and  annihilated  by  evidences  sent  forth 
from  tiibes  and  races  of  beings,  of  which  innumera- 
ble millions  might  pass  under  the  intensest  look  of 
the  human  eye  imperceptible  as  empty  space.  It  is 
immediately  obvious  that  an  incomparably  more  glo- 
rious idea  is  entertained  of  the  Divinity,  by  conceiv- 
ing of  him  as  possessing  a  wisdom  and  a  power  com- 
petent, without  an   effort,  to  maintain  an  infinitely- 


72  Foster's  tuougiits. 

perfect  inspection  and  regulation,  distinctly,  of  all 
subsistences,  even  the  minutest,  comprehended  in  the 
universe,  than  by  conceiving  of  him  as  only  main- 
taining some  kind  of  general  superintendence  of  the 
system — only  general,  because  a  perfect  attention  to 
all  existences  individually  would  be  too  much,  it  is 
deemed,  for  the  capacity  of  even  the  Supreme  Mind. 
And  for  the  very  reason  that  this  would  be.  the  most 
glorious  idea  of  him,  it  must  be  the  tine  one.  To 
say  that  we  can,  in  the  abstract,  conceive  of  a  mag- 
nitude of  intelligence  and  power  which  would  con- 
stitute the  Deity,  if  he  possessed  it,  a  more  glorious 
and  adorable  Being  than  he  actually  is,  could  be  noth- 
ing less  than  flagrant  impiety. 

13.  Hopeless  attempt  of  the  deist  to  solve  the  great 
prohlem  of  the  human  condition, — The  inquirer  must 
be  curious  to  see  in  what  manner  he  disposes  of  the 
stupendous  depravity,  which  through  all  ages  has 
covered  the  earth  with  crimes  and  miseries;  and  how 
he  has  illustrated  the  grand  and  happy  eflects  result- 
ing from  the  general  and  permanent  predominance 
of  the  selfish  over  the  benevolent  affections,  from  the 
imbecility  of  reason  and  conscience  as  opposed  to 
appetite,  from  the  infinitely  greater  facility  of  form- 
ing and  retaining  bad  habits  than  good  ones,  from 
the  incalculable  number  of  false  opinions  embraced 
instead  of  the  true,  and  from  the  deprivation  which 
is  always  found  to  steal  very  soon  into  the  best  insti- 
tutions. He  must  surely  be  no  less  solicitous  to  see 
the  dignity  and  certainty  of  the  moral  sense  verified 
in  the  face  of  the  well-known  fact  that  there  is  no 
crime  which  has  not,  in  the  absence  of  revelation, 
been  committed,  in  one  part  of  thew'orld  or  another, 
without  the  smallest  consciousness  of  guilt. 

14.  Prciudices  ofiinhelierers. — They  might  perhaps 
be  severely  mortified  to  find  what  vulgar  motives, 
while  they  were  despising  vulgar  men,  have  ruled 
their  intellectual  career.     Pride,  which  idolizes  self, 


EVIDENCES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  73 

which  revolts  at  everything  that  comes  in  the  foim 
of  dictates,  and  exults  to  find  that  there  is  a  possibil- 
ity of  controverting  whether  any  dictates  come  from 
a  greater  than  mortal  source  ;  repugnance  as  well  to 
the  severe  and  sublime  morality  of  the  laws  reputed 
of  divine  appointment,  as  to  the  feeling  of  accounta- 
bleness  to  an  all-powerful  Authority,  that  will  not 
leave  moral  laws  to  be  enforced  solely  by  their  own 
sanctions  ;  contempt  of  inferior  men  ;  the  attraction 
of  a  few  brilhant  examples  ;  the  fashion  of  a  class  ;  the 
ambition  of  showing  what  ability  can  do,  and  what 
boldness  can  dare :  if  such  things  as  these,  after  all, 
have  excited  and  directed  the  eftbrts  of  a  philosophic 
spirit,  the  unbelieving  philosopher  must  be  content  to 
acknowledge  plenty  of  companions  and  rivals  among 
httle  men,  who  are  quite  as  capable  of  being  actuated 
by  these  elevated  principles  as  himself 

15.  Seelcingfor  secondary  cattses  to  escape  the  rec- 
ognition of  the  sovereign  agency  of  Divine  Provi- 
dence.— As  if  a  man  were  prying  about  for  this  and 
the  other  cause  of  damage,  to  account  for  the  aspect 
of  a  region  which  has  recently  been  devastated  by 
inundations  or  earthquakes. 

16.  Many  hctraycd  into  infidelity  hy  a  blinded  ad- 
miration of  the  genius  of  brilliant  but  unprincipled  au- 
thors.— There  is  scarcely  any  such  thing  in  the  world 
as  simple  conviction.  It  would  be  amusing  to  observe 
how  reason  had,  in  one  instance,  been  overmled  into 
acquiescence  by  the  admiration  of  a  celebrated  name, 
or  in  another,  into  opposition  by  the  envy  of  itj  how 
most  opportunely  reason  discovered  the  truth  just  at 
the  time  that  interest  could  be  essentially  served  by 
avowing  it ;  how  easily  the  impartial  examiner  could 
be  induced  to  adopt  some  part  of  another  man's  opin- 
ions, after  that  other  had  zealously  approved  some 
favorite,  especially  if  unpopular,  part  of  his ;  as  the 
Pharisees  almost  became  partial  even  to  Christ,  at 
the  moment  that  he  defended  one  of  their  doctrines 

7 


74 


POSTER  S    THOUGHTS. 


against  the  Sadducees,  It  would  be  curious  to  see 
how  a  respectful  estimate  of  a  man's  charactei*  and 
talents  might  be  changed,  in  consequence  of  some 
personal  inattention  experienced  from  him,  into  de- 
preciating invective  against  him  or  his  intellectual 
performances,  and  yet  the  railer,  though  actuated 
solely  by  petty  revenge,  account  himself  all  the  while 
the  model  of  equity  and  sound  judgment.  Like  the 
mariners  in  a  story  which  I  remember  to  have  read, 
who  followed  the  direction  of  their  compass,  infalli- 
bly right,  as  they  could  have  no  doubt,  till  they  ar- 
rived at  an  enemy's  port,  where  they  were  seized  and 
made  slaves.  It  happened  that  the  wicked  captain, 
in  order  to  betray  the  ship,  had  concealed  a  large 
loadstone  at  a  little  distance  on  one  side  of  the  nee- 
dle. 

17.  Writings  of  infidelity. — You  would  examine 
those  pages  with  the  expectation  probably  of  some- 
thing more  powerful  than  subtlety  attenuated  into  in- 
anity, and,  in  that  invisible  and  impalpable  state,  mis- 
taken by  the  writer,  and  willingly  admitted  by  the 
perverted  reader,  for  profundity  of  reasoning;  than 
attempts  to  destroy  the  certainty,  or  preclude  the  ap- 
plication, of  some  of  those  great  familiar  j^rinciples 
which  must  be  taken  as  the  basis  of  human  reason- 
ing, or  it  can  have  no  basis ;  than  suppositions  which 
attribute  the  order  of  the  universe  to  such  causes  as 
it  would  be  felt  ridiculous  to  pronounce  adequate  to 
produce  the  most  trifling  piece  of  mechanism ;  than 
mystical  jargon  which,  under  the  name  of  Nature,  al- 
ternately exalts  almost  into  the  properties  of  a  god, 
and  reduces  far  below  those  of  a  man,  some  imagi- 
nary and  undefinable  agent  or  agency,  which  per- 
forms the  most  amazing  works  without  power,  and 
disjilays  the  most  amazing  wisdom  without  intelli- 
gence ;  than  a  zealous  preference  Of  that  part  of 
every  great  dilemma  which  merely  confounds  and 
sinks  the  mind,  to  that  which  elevates  while  it  over- 


EVIDENCES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  75 

whelms  it ;  than  a  constant  endeavor  to  degi'ade  as 
far  as  possible  everything  that  is  sublime  in  our  spec- 
ulations and  feelings,  or  than  monstrous  parallels  be- 
tween religion  and  mythology. 

18.  False  systems  often  apologized  for ,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  disj^arag'nig  all  religion. — There  had  not 
been  in  this  country  so  free  a  display  of  every  infidel 
propensity  as  to  render  it  a  matter  of  familiar  obser- 
vation, that  men  who  hate  the  intrusion  of  a  Divine 
jurisdiction  are  much  inclined  to  regard  with  favor 
a  mode  of  pi'etended  religion,  which  they  can  make 
light  of  as  devoid  of  all  real  authority.  They  are  so 
inclined  because,  through  its  generic  quality  (of  re- 
ligion), it  somewhat  assists  them  to  make  light  also 
of  a  more  formidable  thing  of  that  quality  and  name. 
It  comes,  probably,  with  a  great  show  of  claims — an- 
tiquity, pretended  miracles,  and  an  immense  number 
of  believers  :  it  may  nevertheless  be  disbelieved  with 
most  certain  impunity.  Under  the  encouragement 
of  this  disbelief  with  impvmity,  the  mind  ventures  to 
look  toward  other  religions,  and  at  last  toward  the 
Christian.  That  also  has  its  antiquity,  its  recorded 
miracles,  and  its  multitude  of  believers.  Though 
there  may  not,  perhaps,  be  impious  assurance  enough 
to  assume  formally  the  equality  of  the  pretensions  in 
the  two  cases,  there  is  a  successful  eagerness  to  es- 
cape from  the  evidence  that  the  apparent  similarity 
is  superficial,  and  the  real  difference  infinite  ;  and  the 
irreligious  spirit  springs  rapidly  and  gladly,  in  its  dis- 
belief, from  the  one,  as  a  stepping-place  to  the  other. 
But  that  which  affords  such  an  important  convenience 
for  surmountinc:  the  awe  of  the  true  religion,  will  nat- 
urally be  a  great  favorite,  even  at  the  very  moment 
it  is  seen  to  be  contemptible,  and  indeed  in  a  sense 
in  consequence  of  its  being  so,  complacency  mingles 
with  the  very  contempt  for  that  from  whicli  contempt 
may  rebound  on  Christianity. 

19.  Origin  of  the  elevated  ideas  in  the  pagan  the- 


76 


FOSTER  S    THOUGHTS. 


ology. — Adverting  to  what  may  be  called  the  theolo- 
gy of  the  system  [paganism],  no  one  denies  that  a 
number  of  very  abstracted  and  elevated  ideas  rela- 
ting to  a  Deity  are  found  in  the  ancient  books,  wheth- 
er these  ideas  had  descended  traditionally  from  the 
primary  communication  of  divine  truth  to  our  race, 
or  had  diveiged  so  far  toward  the  east  from  the  rev- 
elation imparted  through  Moses  to  the  Jews.  .  .  A  fa- 
ded trace  of  primeval  truth  remains  in  their  theology, 
in  a  certain  inane  notion  of  a  Supreme  Spirit,  distin- 
guished from  the  infinity  of  personifications  on  which 
the  religious  sentiment  is  wasted,  and  from  those  few 
transcendent  demon  figures  which  proudly  stand  out 
from  the  insignificance  of  the  swarm.  But  it  is  un- 
necessary to  say  that  this  notion,  a  thin  remote  ab- 
straction, as  a  mere  nehula  in  the  Hindoo  heaven,  is 
quite  inefficient  for  shedding  one  salutary  ray  on  the 
spirits  infatuated  with  all  that  is  trivial  and  gross  in 
superstition. 

20.  Paganism  distinguished  from  Divine  revela- 
-tion. — The  system,  if  so  it  is  to  be  called,  appears,  to 
a  cursory  inquirer  at  least,  an  utter  chaos,  without 
top,  or  bottom,  or  centre,  or  any  dimension  or  pro- 
portion, belonging  to  either  matter  or  mind,  and  con- 
sisting of  materials  which  certainly  deserve  no  better 
order.  It  gives  one  the  idea  of  immensity  filled  with 
what  is  not  of  the  value  of  an  atom.  It  is  the  most 
remarkable  exemplification  of  the  possibility  of  ma- 
king the  grandest  ideas  contemptible  by  conjunction  ; 
for  that  of  infinity  is  here  combined  with  the  very  ab- 
stract of  worthlessness.  While  it  commands  the  faith 
of  its  subjects,  completes  its  power  over  them  by  its 
accordance  to  their  pride,  malevolence,  sensuality, 
and  deceitfulness ;  to  that  natural  concomitant  of 
pride,  the  baseness  which  is  ready  to  prostrate  itself 
in  homage  to  anything  that  shall  put  itself  in  place 
of  God ;  and  to  that  interest  which  criminals  feel  to 
transfer  their  own  accountableness  upon  the  powers 


EVIDENCES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  77 

above  them.  But  then  think  what  a  condition  for 
human  creatures  !  they  believe  in  a  religion  which 
invigorates,  by  coincidence  and  sanction,  those  prin- 
ciples in  their  nature  which  the  true  religion  is  in- 
tended to  destroy;  and  in  return,  those  principles 
thus  strengthened  contribute  to  confirm  their  faith  in 
the  religion.  The  mischief  inflicted  becomes  the 
most  effectual  persuasion  to  confidence  in  the  in- 
flicter. 

21.  Multiplicity  of  pagan  wickedness. — And  so  in- 
defatigable was  its  exercise,  that  almost  all  conceiv- 
able forms  of  immorality  were  brought  to  imagina- 
tion, most  of  them  into  experiment,  and  the  greater 
number  into  prevailing  practice,  in  those  nations  :  in- 
somuch that  the  sated  monarch  would  have  imposed 
as  difbcult  a  task  on  ingenuity  in  calling  for  the  in- 
vention of  a  new  vice  as  of  a  new  pleasure. 

22.  Pride  revolted  into  infidclit])  hy  tlie  impartial 
philanthropy  of  Christianity. — Let  that  jjride  speak 
out ;  it  would  be  curious  to  hear  it  say  that  your  men- 
tal refinement  2ierha2:)S  might  have  permitted  you  to 
take  your  ground  on  that  eminence  of  the  Christian 
faith  ivhere  Milton  and  Pascal  stood,  ^/'so  many  hum- 
bler beings  did  not  disgrace  it  by  occupying  the  de- 
clivity and  the  vale. 

23.  Perverse  blindness  of  those  who  see  no  moral 
beauty  and  grandeur  in  Divine  revelation. — Like  an 
ignorant  clown  w^ho,  happening  to  look  at  the  heav- 
ens, perceives  nothing  more  awful  in  that  wilderness 
of  suns  than  in  the  row  of  lamps  along  the  streets ! 
If  you  do  read  that  book  in  the  better  state  of  feeling, 
I  have  no  comprehension  of  the  mechanism  of  your 
mind,  if  the  first  perception  would  not  be  that  of  a 
simple,  venerable  dignity,  aud  if  the  second  would 
not  be  that  of  a  certain  abstract,  undefinable  maa^nifi- 
cence  ;  a  perception  of  something  which,  behind  this 
simplicity,  expands  into  a  greatness  beyond  the  com- 
pass of  your  mind  ;  an  impression  like  that  with  which 

7* 


78  Foster's  thoughts. 

a  thoughtful  man  would  have  looked  on  the  counte- 
nance of  Newton,  after  he  had  published  his  discov- 
eiies,  feeling  a  kind  of  mystical  absorption  in  the 
attempt  to  comprehend  the  magnitude  of  the  soul  re- 
siding within  that  form. 

24.  The  hlighting  inflnence  of  inn  fidelity . — Reli- 
gion, believed  and  felt,  is  the  amplitude  of  our  moral 
nature.  And  how  wretched  an  object  therefore  is  a 
mind,  especially  of  thought,  sensibility,  and  geniiis, 
condemned  to  that  poverty  and  insulation  which  in- 
fidelity inflicts,  by  annihilating  around  it  the  medium 
of  a  sensible  interest  in  the  existence,  the  emotions, 
the  activities,  of  a  higher  order  of  beings  ! 

25.  The  gospel  jyrovides  fur  those  overlooJcedhy  phi- 
losophy  and  false  religion. — It  is  the  beneficent  dis- 
tinction of  the  gospel,  that  notwithstanding  it  is  of  a 
magnitude  to  interest  and  to  sui-pass  angelic  investi- 
gation (and  therefore  assuredly  to  pour  contempt  on 
the  pride  of  human  intelligence  that  rejects  it  for  its 
meanness),  it  is  yet  most  expressly  sent  to  the  class 
which  philosophers  have  always  despised.  And  a 
good  man  feels  it  a  cause  of  grateful  joy,  that  a 
communication  has  come  from  Heaven,  adapted  to 
effect  the  happiness  of  multitudes,  in  sj^ite  of  natural 
debility  or  neglected  education. 

26.  Christianity  dissevered,  from  its  corruptions. 
— Such  a  man  as  I  have  supposed,  understands  wlrfifr 
its  tendency  and  dictates  really  are,  so  far  at  leaslf 
that,  in  contemplating  the  bigotry,  persecution,  hy- 
pocrisy, and  worldly  ambition,  which  have  stained, 
and  continue  to  stain,  the  Christian  history,  his  mind 
instantly  dissevers,  by  a  decisive  glance  of  thought, 
all  these  evils,  and  the  pretended  Christians  who  are 
accountable  for  them,  from  the  religion  which  is  as 
distinct  from  them  as  the  Spirit  that  pervades  all 
things  is  pure  from  matter  and  from  sin.  In  his 
view,  these  odious  things  and  these  wicked  men  that 
have  arrogated  and  defiled  the  Christian  name,  sink 


EVIDENCES    OP    CHRISTIANITY.  79 

out  of  sight  through  a  chasm,  like  Koran,  Dathan, 
and  Ablram,  and  leave  the  camp  and  the  cause  holy, 
though  they  leave  the  numbers  small. 

27.  Glory  of  religion  obscured  by  imperfect  mani- 
festation.— Contracted  and  obscured  in  its  abode,  the 
inhabitant  will  appear,  as  the  sun  through  a  misty 
sky,  with  but  little  of  its  magnificence,  to  a  man  who 
can  be  content  to  receive  his  impression  of  the  intel- 
lectual character  of  the  religion  from  the  mode  of  its 
manifestation  from  the  minds  of  its  disciples  ;  and,  in 
doing  so,  can  indolently  and  pervei'sely  allow  himself 
to  regard  the  weakest  mode  of  its  displaying  itself, 
as  its  truest  imaa^e.  In  taking  such  a  dwellinsr,  the 
religion  seems  to  imitate  what  was  prophesied  of  its 
author,  that,  when  he  should  be  seen,  there  would  be 
no  beauty  that  he  should  be  desired.  This  humilia- 
tion is  inevitable  ;  for  unless  miracles  are  wrought,  to 
impart  to  the  less  intellectual  disciples  an  enlarged 
power  of  thinking,  the  evangelic  truth  must  accom- 
modate itself  to  the  dimensions  and  uni'efined  habi- 
tudes of  their  minds. 

28.  CJiristianity  prejudiced  by  the  ignorant  repre- 
sentatives of  its  friends. — As  the  gospel  comprises  an 
ample  assemblage  of  intellectual  views,  and  as  the 
greater  number  of  Christians  are  inevitably  disqualifi- 
ed to  do  justice  to  them,  even  in  any  degree,  by  the  same 
causes  which  disqualify  them  to  do  justice  to  other  in- 
tellectual subjects,  it  is  not  improbable,  that  the  great- 
er number  of  expressions  which  he  has  heard  in 
his  whole  life,  have  been  utterly  below  the  subject. 
Obviously  this  is  a  very  serious  circumstance  ;  for  if 
he  had  heard  as  much  spoken  on  any  other  intellec- 
tual subject,  as,  for  instance,  poetiy,  or  astronomy, 
for  which  perhaps  he  has  a  passion,  and  if  a  similar 
proportion  of  what  he  had  heard  had  been  as  much 
below  the  subject,  he  would  probably  have  acquired 
but  little  partiality  for  either  of  those  studies.  And 
it  is  a  very  melancholy  disposition  against  the  human 


80 


FOSTER  S    THOUGHTS. 


heart,  that  the  gospel  needs  fewer  unfavorable  asso. 
ciafions  to  become  repulsive  in  it,  than  any  other  im- 
portant subject. 

29.  Christianity  distinguished  from  its  corrup- 
tions.— In  the  view  of  an  intelligent  and  honest  mind 
the  religion  of  Christ  stands  as  clear  of  all  connexion 
with  the  corruption  of  men,  and  churches,  and  ages, 
as  when  it  was  first  revealed.  It  retains  its  purity- 
like  Moses  in  Egypt,  or  Daniel  in  Babylon,  or  the 
Savior  of  the  world  himself,  while  he  minsfled  with 
scribes  and  Pharisees,  or  republicans  and  sinners. 

30.  The  evangelical  system  appears  without  form 
or  comeliness  to  ivorldlymen. — In  admitting  this  por- 
tion of  the  system  as  a  part  of  the  truth,  his  feelings 
amount  to  the  wish  that  a  different  theory  had  been 

true The  dignity  of  religion,  as  a  general  and 

refined  speculation,  he  may  have  long  acknowledged  ; 
but  it  appears  to  him  as  if  it  lost  part  of  that  dignity, 
in  taking  the  specific  form  of  the  evangelical  system  ; 
just  as  if  an  ethereal  being:  were  reduced  to  combine 
his  radiance  and  subtilty  with  an  earthly  nature.  .  . 
.  .  .  The  gospel  appears  to  him  like  the  image  in 
Nebuchadnezzar's  dream,  refulgent  indeed  with  a 
head  of  gold ;  the  sublime  truths  which  are  inde- 
pendent of  every  peculiar  dispensation  are  luminous- 
ly exhibited  ;  but  the  doctrines  which  are  added  as 
descriptive  of  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  the 
Christian  economy,  appear  less  splendid,  and  as  if 
descending  toward  the  qualities  of  iron  and  clay. 

31.  Inadequate  and  narrow  views  of  some  Chris- 
tians.— He  may  sometimes  have  heard  the  discourse 
of  sincere  Chiistians,  whose  religion  involved  no  in- 
tellectual exercise,  and,  strictly  speaking,  no  subject 
of  intellect.  Separately  from  their  feelings,  it  had. 
no  definition,  no  topics,  no  distinct  succession  of  views. 
And  if  he  or  some  other  p^'son  attempted  to  talk  on 
some  part  of  the  religion  itself,  as  a  thing  definable 
and  important,  independently  of  the  feelings  of  any 


EVIDENCES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  81 

0 

individual,  and  as  consisting  in  a  vast  congeries  of 
ideas,  relating  to  the  divine  government  of  the  world, 
to  the  general  nature  of  the  economy  disclosed  by 
the  Messiah,  to  the  distinct  doctrines  in  the  theory 
of  that  economy,  to  moral  principles,  and  to  the  great- 
ness of  the  future  prospects  of  man,  —  they  seemed 
to  have  no  concern  in  that  religion,  and  impatiently 
interrupted  the  subject  with  the  observation,  —  that 
is  not  experience. 

32.  The  gospel  adapted  to  all  orders  of  mind. — 
By  want  of  acuteness  do  you  fail  to  distinguish  be- 
tween the  mode  (a  mere  extrinsic  and  casual  mode), 
and  the  substance  %  In  the  world  of  nature  you  see 
the  same  simple  elements  wrought  into  the  plainest 
and  most  beautiful,  into  the  most  diminutive  and  the 
most  majestic  forms.  So  the  same  simple  principles 
of  Christian  truth  may  constitute  the  basis  of  a  very 
inferior,  or  a  very  noble,  order  of  ideas.  The  prin- 
ciples themselves  have  an  invariable  quality;  but 
they  were  not  imparted  to  man  to  be  fixed  in  the 
mhid  as  so  many  bare  scientific  propositions,  each 
confined  to  one  single  mode  of  conception,  without 
any  collateral  ideas,  and  to  be  always  expressed  in 
one  unalterable  form  of  words.  They  are  placed 
there  in  order  to  spread  out,  if  I  might  so  express  it, 
into  a  gi-eat  multitude  and  diversity  of  ideas  and  feel- 
ings. These  ideas  and  feelings,  forming  round  the 
pui-e,  simple  principles,  will  correspond,  and  will 
make  those  principles  seem  to  correspond,  to  the 
meaner  or  more  dignified  intellectual  rank  of  mind. 
Why  will  you  not  perceive  that  the  subject  which 
takes  so  humble  a  style  in  its  less  intellectual  believ- 
ers, unfolds  gi-eater  proportions  through  a  gradation 
of  larger  and  still  larger  faculties,  and  with  facility 
occupies  the  whole  capacity  of  the  amplest,  in  the 
same  manner  as  the  ocean  fills  a  gulf  as  easily  as  a 
creek?  Through  this  series  it  retains  an  identity 
of  its  essential  principles,  and  appears  progressively 


82  Foster's  thoughts. 

a  nobler  thing  only  by  gaining  a  position  for  more 
nobly  tli8]ilaying  itself.  Why  will  you  not  follow  it 
through  this  gradation,  till  it  reach  the  point  where 
it  is  presented  in  a  greatness  of  character,  to  cor- 
respond with  the  improved  state  of  your  mind  1  Nev- 
er fear  lest  the  gospel  should  prove  not  sublime 
enough  for  the  elevation  of  your  thoughts.  If  you 
could  attain  an  intellectual  eminence  from  which  you 
would  look  with  pity  on  the  rank  which  you  at  pres- 
ent hold,  you  would  still  find  the  dignity  of  this  sub- 
ject occupying  your  level,  and  rising  above  it.  Do 
you  doubt  this  ?  What  then  do  you  think  of  such 
spirits,  for  instance,  as  those  of  Milton  and  Pascal  ] 
And  by  how  many  degrees  of  the  intellectual  scale 
shall  yours  surpass  them,  to  authorize  your  feeling  that 
to  be  little  which  they  felt  to  be  great  ?  They  were 
often  conscious  of  the  magnificence  of  Christian  truth 
filling,  distending,  and  exceeding,  their  faculties,  and 
sometimes  wished  for  greater  powers  to  do  it  justice. 
In  their  noblest  contemplations,  they  did  not  feel  their 
minds  elevating  the  subject,  but  the  subject  elevating 
their  minds. 

33.  Christianity  the  same  amid  the  various  and 
changing  evils  of  the  icorld. — It  is  most  consolatory 
to  reflect,  that  religion,  like  an  angel  walking  among 
the  ranks  of  guilty  men,  still  untainted  and  pure,  re- 
tains, amid  all  these  black  and  outrageous  evils, 
the  same  benign  and  celestial  spirit,  and  gives  the 
same  independent  and  perpetual  pleasures.  The 
happiness  of  the  good  seeks  not  the  smile  of  guilty 
power,  nor  dreads  its  frown.  Let  a  Chi-istian  philos- 
ophy, therefore,  elevate  all  our  speculations,  calm  our 
indignant  feelings,  and  dignify  all  our  conduct 

34.  Two  ways  to  atheism. — There  is  a  bi-oad  easy 
way  to  atheism  through  thoughtless  ignorance,  as 
well  as  a  narrow  and  difficult  one  through  subtle 
speculation. 

35.  Dreary  eminence  of  infidelity. — I  am  describing 


EVIDENCES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  83 

the  progress  of  one  of  the  humble  order  of  ahensfi-om 
all  religion,  and  not  that  by  which  the  great  philo- 
sophic leaders  have  ascended  the  dreary  eminence, 
where  they  look  with  so  much  complacency  up  to  a 
vacant  heaven,  and  dov\Ti  to  the  gulf  of  annihilation. 
36.  Consummation  of  allowed  skepticism. — The 
progress  in  guilt,  which  generally  follows  a  rejection 
of  revelation  makes  it  still  more  and  more  desirable 
that  no  object  should  remain  to  be  feared.  It  was 
not  strange  therefore  if  this  man  read  with  avidity  or 
even  strange  if  he  read  with  something  which  his 
wishes  completed  into  conviction,  a  few  of  the  writers, 
who  have  attempted  the  last  achievement  of  presump- 
tuous man.  After  inspecting  these  pages  awhile, 
he  raised  his  eyes,  and  the  great  Spirit  was  gone. 
Mighty  transformation  of  all  things  !  The  luminaries 
of  heaven  no  longer  shone  with  his  splendor ;  the 
adorned  earth  no  longer  looked  fair  with  his  beauty  ; 
the  darkness  of  night  had  ceased  to  be  rendered  solemn 
by  his  majesty  ;  life  and  thought  were  not  an  effect 
of  his  all-pervading  energy  ;  it  was  not  his  providence 
that  supported  an  infinite  charge  of  dependent  be- 
ings; his  empire  of  justice  no  longer  spread  over  the 
universe  ;  nor  had  even  that  universe  sprang  from 
his  all-creating  power. 

37.  The  hoasted  triumph  of  iufidelity  in  the  death 
of  Hume. — To  be  a  conscious  agent,  exerting  a  rich 
combination  of  wonderful  faculties  to  feel,  an  infinite 
variety  of  pleasurable  sensations  and  emotions,  to 
contemplate  all  nature,  to  extend  an  intellectual  pres- 
ence to  indefinite  ages  of  the  past  and  future,  to  pos- 
sess a  perennial  spring  of  ideas,  to  run  infinite  lengths 
of  inquiry,  with  the  dehght  of  exercise  and  fleetness, 
even  when  not  with  the  satisfaction  of  full  attain- 
ment, and  to  be  a  lord  over  inanimate  matter,  com- 
pelling it  to  an  action  and  a  use  altogether  foreign  to 
its  nature,  to  be  all  this,  is  a  state  so  stupendously 
different  from  that  of  being  simply  a  piece  of  clay, 


84  FOSTER  S    THOUGHTS. 

that  to  be  quite  easy,  and  complacent  in  the  immedi- 
ate prospect  of  passing  from  the  one  to  the  other  is 
a  total  inversion  of  all  reasonable  estimates  of  things  ; 
it  is  a  renunciation,  we  do  not  say  of  sound  philoso- 
phy, but  of  common  sense.  The  certainty  that  the 
loss  will  not  be  felt  after  it  has  taken  place,  will  but 
little  sooth  a  man  of  unperverted  mind  in  consider- 
ing what  it  is  that  he  is  going  to  lose. 

The  jocularity  of  the  philosopher  was  contrary  to 
good  taste.  Supposing  that  the  expected  loss  were 
not,  according  to  a  grand  law  of  nature,  a  cause  for 
melancholy  and  desperation,  but  that  the  contentment 
were  rational ;  yet  the  approaching  transformation 
was  at  all  events  to  be  regarded  as  a  very  grave  and 
very  strange  event,  and  therefore  joculaiity  was  to- 
tally incongruous  with  the  anticipation  of  such  an 
event :  a  grave  and  solemn  feeling  was  the  only  one 
that  could  be  in  unison  with  the  contemplation  of  such 
a  chantre.  There  was,  in  this  instance,  the  same  in- 
congruity which  we  should  impute  to  a  v/riter  who 
should  mingle  buffoonery  in  a  solemn  crisis  of  the 
drama,  or  with  the  most  momentous  event  of  a  his- 
tory. To  be  in  harmony  with  his  situation,  in  his 
own  view  of  that  situation,  the  expressions  of  the  dy- 
ing philosopher  were  required  to  be  dignified  ;  and 
if  they  were  in  any  degree  vivacious,  the  vivacity 
ought  to  have  been  rendered  graceful  by  being  ac- 
companied with  the  noblest  effort  of  the  intellect  of 
which  the  efforts  were  going  to  cease  for  ever.  The 
low  vivacity  of  which  we  have  been  reading,  seems 
but  like  the  quickening  corruption  of  a  mind  whose 
faculty  of  perception  is  putrefying  and  dissolving 
even  before  the  body.  It  is  true  that  good  men,  of  a 
high  order,  have  been  known  to  ritter  pleasantries  in 
their  last  hours.  But  these  have  been  pleasantries 
of  a  fine  ethereal  quality,  the  scintillations  of  anima- 
ted hope,  the  high  pulsations  of  mental  health,  the  in- 
voluntary movements  of  a  spirit  feeling  itself  free 


EVIDENCES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  85 

even  in  the  grasp  of  death,  tlie  natural  springs  and 
boundingsof  faculties  on  the  point  of  obtaining  a  still 
much  greater  and  a  boundless  liberty.  These  had 
no  resemblance  to  the  low  and  labored  jokes  of  our 
philosopher  ;  jokes  so  labored  as  to  give  strong  cause 
for  suspicion,  after  all,  that  they  were  of  the  same 
nature,  and  for  the  same  purpose,  as  the  expedient 
of  a  boy  on  passing  through  some  gloomy  place  in 
the  night,  who  whistles  to  lessen  his  fear,  or  to  per- 
suade his  companion  that  he  does  not  feel  it. 

Such  a  manner  of  meetina:  death  was  inconsistent 
with  the  skepticism,  to  which  Hume  was  always  found 
to  avow  his  adherence.  For  that  skepticism  neces- 
sarily acknowledged  a  possibility  and  a  chance  that 
the  religion  which  he  had  scoi'ned,  might,  notwith- 
standing, be  found  true,  and  might,  in  the  moment 
after  his  death,  glare  upon  him  with  all  its  terrors. 
But  how  dreadful  to  a  reflecting  mind  would  have 
been  the  smallest  chance  of  meeting  such  a  vision  ! 
Yet  the  philosopher  could  be  cracking  his  heavy 
jokes,  and  Dr.  Smith  could  be  much  diverted  at  the 
sport. 

To  a  man  who  solemnly  believes  the  truth  of  reve- 
lation, and  therefore  the  threatenings  of  divine  ven- 
geance against  the  despisers  of  it,  this  scene  will 
present  as  mournful  a  spectacle  as  perhaps  the  sun 
ever  shone  upon. 
8 


86  Foster's  thoughts. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THOUGHTS  ON  THE  LAW  OF  GOD ITS   HOLINESS,  COM- 
PREHENSIVENESS, APPLICATIONS,  AND   EVASIONS. 


1.  God  a  laiogiver. — The  first  view  of  the  relation 
between  God  and  all  other  beings,  is  that  of  his  be- 
ing their  Creator.  The  next  \dew  of  the  relation  is 
that  which  manifests  him  as  a  Lawgiver.  By  the 
very  nature  of  the  case,  this  must  be  an  essential  part 
of  the  relation.  No  right  so  absolute,  to  give  laws, 
can  be  conceived,  as  that  of  the  Creator ;  for  he  is 
necessarily  the  Supreme  Being.  He  has  a  pei-fect 
and  exclusive  property  in  what  he  has  created.  All 
created  being  is  entirely  dependent  on  him  for  being 
and  well-being.  He  alone  can  have  a  perfect  under- 
standing of  what  is  the  right  state,  and  the  right  pro- 
cedure, of  created  beings ;  they  can  not  understand 
themselves,  and  therefore  could  not,  if  they  would, 
devise  competent  laws.  He  alone  has  the  power  to 
enforce  a  system  of  laws  over  the  whole  creation 
The  mention  of  the  "  whole  creation"  may  suggest 
one  application  of  the  terms — the  amazing  extent  of 
the  scene  of  his  learislation  ! 

2.  Siqjjjosition  of  a  divine  law  necessary. — We  can 
not  conceive  of  the  sovereign  Creator  and  Governor 
of  the  world  as  not  appointing  a  law  to  his  intelligent 
creatures  ;  that  he  should  be  what  the  epicureans  ac- 
counted of  their  gods,  perfectly  careless  about  the 
world  and  what  may  be  done  in  it.  As  the  Maker 
of  creatures  who  are  to  be  wholly  and  for  ever  de- 
pendent upon  him,  he  must  necessarily  have  them 


LAW    OF    GOD.  87 

under  his  sovereign  authonty.  He  must,  also,  ne- 
cessaiily  have  a  icill  with  I'espect  to  the  state  of  the 
dispositions,  and  the  order  of  actions,  of  his  intelHgent 
creatures,  and  he  must  perfectly  know  what  is  right 
for  them.  He  would,  therefore,  as  at  once  the  su- 
preme authority  and  the  infallible  intelligence,  pre- 
scribe to  his  creatures  a  laic  of  injunction  and  prohi- 
bition— a  grand  xaile  of  discrimination  and  obligation. 
He  would  do  so,  except  on  one  supposition,  namely, 
that  he  had  willed  to  constitute  his  rational  creatures 
such  that  they  must  necessarily  always  be  disposed 
and  always  act  right,  by  the  infallible  propensity  of 
their  nature — by  their  own  unalterable  and  eternal 
choice  ;  so  that  there  could  be  no  possibility  of  their 
going  Avi-ong  from  either  inclination  or  mistake.  But 
the  Almighty  did  7iot  so  constitute  any  natures  that 
we  know  anything  of. 

3.  Comprehensiveness  of  the  divine  law. — Pei-haps, 
according  to  that  divine  standard,  which  is  the  ulti- 
mate absti-action  of  all  relations,  analogies,  measures, 
and  proportions,  and  in  which  the  laws  and  princi- 
ples of  the  natural  world,  and  those  of  the  moral,  are 
resolved  in  the  same  (arc  in  their  original  undivided 
essence),  the  grandeur  of  a  virtue  may  be  as  great  or 
much  greater  than  that  of  a  volcano,  tl>e  mischief  of 
a  vice  as  great  as  that  of  an  earthquake. 

4.  The  law  necessarily  holy. — As  to  the  quality 
and  extent  of  that  law,  proceeding  from  a  perfectly 
holy  Being,  it  could  not  do  less  than  prescribe  a  per- 
fect holiness  in  all  things.  Think  of  the  absurdity 
there  is  in  the  idea  that  its  requirements  should  be 
less  than  perfect  holiness.  For  that  less — what  should 
it  be  ?  WTiat  would  or  could  the  remainder  be  after 
holiness  up  to  a  certain  point  and  stopping  there  % 
It  must  be  not  holiness  just  so  far.  Not  holiness] 
and  what  must  it  be,  then  ?  What  could  it  be,  but 
something  luiholy,  wrong,  sinful  ]  Thus  a  law  not 
requiring  -perfect  rectitude,  would  so  far  give  an  al 


88  Foster's  thoughts. 

lowaiice,  a  sanction,  to  what  is  evil — sin.  And  fi-om 
Tlim  who  is  perfectly  and  infinitely  holy  !  An  utter 
absurdity  to  conceive  !  A  law  from  such  an  author 
will  not  and  can  not  reduce  and  accommodate  itself 
to  an  impei-fcct,  fallen,  and  incapable  state  of  those 
on  whom  it  is  imposed  .  .  .  exacting  no  more  than  just 
what  an  imperfect,  fdlen  creature  can  perfonn — [and] 
allowing  and  sanctioning  all  the  vast  amount  of  un- 
holiness  beyond  :  [else]  a  strong  indisposition  to  the 
right  and  disposition  to  the  wrong  would  become  a 
cleai-  acquittance,  the  greatest  depravity  confer  the 
amplest  piivilege  of  exemption,  and  an  intense  and 
perfect  aversion  to  all  holiness,  as  constituting  the 
greatest  inability  to  confonn  to  the  divine  law,  would 
constitute  very  nearly  a  perfect  innocence. 

5.  Law  unalterahle. — How  little  is  this  recognised 
among  the  multitude  amenable  to  it  !  It  is  as  if  the 
tables  written  on  Sinai  had  been  subjected  to  be 
passed  through  the  camp  for  the  peojile  to  re^dse, 
inteipolate,  erase,  or  wholly  substitute,  at  their  pleas- 
ure. Never  Jesuit's  commentaiy  on  the  Bible  falsi- 
fied it  more  than  the  world's  system  of  principles 
perverts  or  supplants  that  of  the  Almighty.  This 
operation  began  even  in  Eden,  through  "  the  wis- 
dom that  is  from  beneath,"  and  has  continued  ever 
since. 

6.  Compreliensive  application  oj" the  law. — Doubt- 
less not  the  wide  compass  of  the  scene  and  subjects 
is  meant,  but  the  quality  of  the  law  as  imperative  on 
man,  its  authority  and  requirements  applied  to  so 
many  points,  the  comprehensiveness,  the  universality 
of  its  jurisdiction.  It  reaches  and  comprehends  the 
whole  extent  of  all  things  in  which  there  is  the  dis- 
tinction of  right  and  wrong,  good  and  evil.  Now, 
then,  think  of  the  almost  infinite  multiplicity  of  things 
in  which  this  distinction  has  a  place  ;  the  grand  total 
of  what  is  passing  in  men's  minds,  converse,  and  ac- 
tion — is  passing  at  this  hour — has  been  in  the  course 


LAW    OF    GOD.  89 

of  the  day — during  the  whole  course  of  life  of  each 
and  all.  Think  how  much,  how  little,  of  all  this  can 
be  justly  considered  as  withdrawn  from  the  jurisdic- 
tion of  the  Divine  authority  and  law.  A  wide  rain, 
or  the  beams  of  the  sun,  hardly  fall  on  a  greater  mul- 
titude and  diversity  of  things. 

7.  Gomplaisancij  qfhohj  beings  in  the  law. — Now 
an  intelligent  creature,  in  a  right  state — that  is,  a 
holy  state,  in  harmony  with  God — would  be  deeply 
pleased  that  all  things  should  be  thus  marked  with  a 
signification  of  his  will.  For  how  happy,  to  be  in 
all  things  at  the  direction  of  the  Supreme  Wisdom  ! 
in  all  things  made  clearly  aware  what  is  confonnity 
to  the  Divine  Excellence  ;  insomuch  that,  if  the  case 
could  be  supposed  of  anything  of  material  intei-est 
being  left  without  this  mark  of  the  Divine  Will,  un- 
der an  eclipse  of  the  light  from  God,  that  would  to 
such  a  spirit  appear  as  something  distressing,  and 
feai'ful,  and  portentous — would  be  felt  as  threaten- 
ing some  undefinable  hazard.  To  a  being  possessed 
and  filled  with  the  reverential  love  of  God,  it  would 
be  a  most  acceptable  and  welcome  thing,  that  thus  it 
should  be  made  manifest  in  all  things  what  is  his 
pleasure  ;  that  the  whole  field  of  existence  and  ac- 
tion should  bear  all  over  it  the  decided  and  precise 
delineations,  as  on  a  map,  of  the  ways  which  his 
ci-eatures  are  to  take.  Should  it  not  be  so  ?  Must 
it  not  be  so  to  an  un corrupted  and  holy  creature  of 
God  ?  But  is  it  so  to  the  general  spii'it  of  mankind  ? 
is  it  so  naturally  to  any  of  them  % 

8.  Distinctions  of  the  law  effaced. — It  is  deplorable 
to  consider  how  large  a  proportion  of  all  the  vices 
and  crimes  of  which  mankind  were  ever  guilty,  have 
actually  constituted,  in  some  or  other  of  their  tribes 
and  ages,  a  part  of  the  approved  moral  and  religious 
system.  It  is  questionable  whether  we  could  select 
from  the  worst  forms  of  turpitude  any  one  which  has 
not  been  at  least  admitted  among  tlie  authorized  cus- 

8* 


90  Foster's  thoughts. 

toms,  if  not  even  appointed  among  tlic  institutes  of 
the  religion,  of  some  portion  of  the  human  race. 

9.  Dominion  of  the  law  sought  to  be  restricted. — It 
is  not  a  welcome  thing  that  the  law  of  God  is  so  "  ex- 
ceeding broad."  Accordingly,  its  breadth  is,  in  ev- 
ery imaginable  way,  endeavored  to  be  narrowed.  It 
is  true  that  even  the  very  apprehension  of  it  is  very 
limited  and  faint.  If  the  dullness  and  contractedness 
of  apprehension  could  be  set  aside  for  an  interval, 
and  a  palpable,  luminous  manifestation  made  of  the 
vast  compass  and  the  whole  order  of  distinctions  of 
this  Divine  law,  it  would  strike  as  ten  times — a  hun- 
dred times — beyond  all  that  had  been  suspected. 
Yet  still,  in  multitudes  of  minds,  there  is  apprehen- 
sion enough  of  such  a  widely-extended  law  to  cause 
disquietude,  to  excite  reaction  and  a  recourse  to  any- 
thing that  will  seem  to  naiTow  that  law  ....  If  the 
Divine  juiisdiction  would  yield  to  contract  its  com- 
prehension, and  retire  from  all  the  ground  over  which 
a  practical  infidelity  heedlessly  disregards  or  deliber- 
ately rejects  it,  how  large  a  province  it  would  leave 
free. 

10.  The  great  sanction  of  morals  arises  from  the 
recognition  of  the  Divi??e  law,  and  not  from  civil  gov- 
ernment.— With  all  its  gravity,  and  phrases  of  wis- 
dom, and  show  of  homage  to  virtue,  it  was,  and  was 
plainly  descried  to  be,  that  very  same  noli  me  tangere, 
in  a  disguised  fomi ;  a  less  provoking  and  hostile 
manner  only  of  keeping  up  the  state  of  preparation 
for  defensive  war.  Eveiy  one  knew  right  Avell  that 
the  pure  approbation  and  love  of  goodness  were  not 
the  source  of  law ;  but  that  it  was  an  arrangement 
originating  and  deriving  all  its  force  from  self-inter- 
est— a  contrivance  by  which  each  man  was  glad  to 
make  the  collective  strength  of  society  his  guaranty 
against  his  neighbor's  interest  and  wish  to  do  him 
wrong  ....  A  preceptive  system  thus  estimated  could 
not,  even  had  the  princijiles  to  which  it  gave  expres- 


LAW    OF    GOD.  91 

sion  ill  the  mandates  of  law,  been  no  other  than  those 
of  the  soundest  moraUty,  have  impressed  them  witli 
the  weisrht  of  sanctity  on  the  conscience.  And  all 
this  but  tends  to  show  the  necessity  that  the  rules  and 
sanctions  of  morality  to  come  with  simplicity  and 
power  on  the  human  mind,  should  primarily  emanate, 
and  be  acknowledofed  as  emanatint;^  from  a  Beiner 
exalted  above  all  implication  and  competition  of  in- 
terest with  man. 

11.  Good  'principles  efficacious  only  as  abetted  hij 
the  sanctions  of  a  Divine  laic. — Supposing  them  intrin- 
sically right,  what  will  that — merely  that — avail,  amid 
the  commotion  of  the  passions,  the  beguilements  of 
immediate  interest,  the  endless  beselment  of  tempta- 
tions ?  Man  is  not  a  being  to  be  governed  by  prin- 
ciples, detached  from  an  overawing  power.  Set  them 
in  the  best  array  that  you  can  in  his  mind,  to  fight 
the  evil  powers  within  and  from  without,  but  refuse 
fliem  weapons  from  the  armory  of  heaven — let  no 
lightning  of  the  Divine  eye,  no  thunder  of  the  Di- 
vine voice,  come  in  testimony  and  in  aid  of  their  op- 
eration— and  how  soon  they  will  be  overwhelmed 
and  trampled  down  !  like  the  Israelites  when  de- 
serted of  God  in  their  battles,  the  very  ark  of  God 
suiTendered  to  the  pagans  ! 

12.  Second  great  commandment. — This  can  not  be 
intended  in  the  absolutely  and  rigorously  literal 
sense ;  but  it  viust  be  dictated  in  a  meaning  which 
presses  severely,  all  round,  on  the  sphere  of  exclusive 
self-love — so  severely  as  to  compress  and  crush  that 
affection  into  a  gi'ievous  narrowness  of  space,  unless 
it  can  escape  into  liberty  and  action  some  other  way, 
in  some  modified  quality.  There  is  a  way  in  which 
itc«w  expand  and  indulge  itself,  without  violating  the 
solemn  law  imposed,  namely,  that  self-love  or  self- 
interest  should  be  exalted  to  such  a  temper  that  its 
gi-atification,  its  gratification  of  itself,  should  actually 
very  much  consist  in  promoting  the  welfare  of  others. 


92  Foster's  thoughts. 

13.  The  law  to  be  applied  in  judging  the  character 
and  actions  of  men. — It  is  a  fatal  error  to  take  from 
the  work!  itself  our  jjrinciples  for  judging  of  the 
world.  These  must  be  taken  absolutely  from  the 
Divine  authority,  and  always  kept  true  to  the  dic- 
tates of  that ;  for  nothing  can  be  more  absurd  (not  to 
say  pernicious)  than  to  have  a  set  of  rules  different 
from  them.  Therefoi*e  it  is  as  in  the  temple,  and  at 
the  oracles  of  God,  that  the  principles  are  to  be  re- 
ceived and  fixed,  to  go  out  with  forjudging  of  what 
we  behold.  And  a  frequent  recourse  must  he  had 
thither,  to  confirm  and  keep  them  pure.  The  prin- 
ciples are  thus  to  be  something  independent,  and  as 
it  were  sovereign,  above  that  which  they  are  to  be 
applied  to.  But  instead  of  this,  a  great  part  of  man- 
kind let  their  pi'inciples  for  judging  be  formed  by 
that  world  itself  which  they  are  to  obsei-v^e  and  judge. 
They  have  forjudging  by,  a  whole  set  of  apprehen- 
sions, notions,  maxims,  moral  and  religious,  not  at  all 
identical  with  the  Divine  dictates.  Therefore,  not 
through  any  virtue  of  candor  or  charity,  but  through 
false  principles,  they  perceive  but  little  evil  [sin, 
folly]  in  many  of  the  "  works  done,"  which  the  high 
and  pure  authority  condemns.  They  do  not  see  the 
beam  of  "  fiery  indignation,"  which,  from  Heaven, 
strikes  here  and  there  ;  they  do  not  see  shiivelled 
into  insignificance  many  things  which  the  world  ac- 
counts most  important.  It  does  not  come  full  out  in 
their  sight  how  far  the  actions  of  men  agree,  or  not 
agree,  with  their  awful  future  prospects. 

14.  Conscience  the  monitor  of  the  Divine  law. — Con- 
science is  to  communicate  with  something  mysteri- 
ously great,  which  is  without  the  soul,  and  abjve  it, 
and  everywhere.  It  is  the  sense,  more  explicit  or 
obscure,  of  standing  in  judgment  before  the  Al- 
mighty. That  which  makes  a  man  feel  so,  is  a 
part  of  himself;  so  that  the  struggle  against  God 
becomes  a  struggle  with  man's  own  soul.     There- 


LAW    OF    GOD.  93 

fox'e   conscience  has  often  been  denominated  "  the 
God  in  man." 

15.  ThefiiciHties  of  conscience  for  appli/ing  the  Di- 
vine laic. — Now  conscience,  by  liaving  its  dwelhnf 
deep  within,  has  a  great  advantage  as  a  judge  in 
comparison  of  outward  observers.  It  is  seated  witli 
its  lamp  down  in  the  hidden  world  among  the  vital 
sentiments  and  movements  at  the  radical  depth  of 
the  dispositions,  at  the  very  springs  of  action,  among 
the  thoughts,  motives,  intentions,  and  wishes. 

16.  Conscience  restrains  from  violating  the  late. — 
The  infinite  multitude  of  ci-iminals  would  have  been 
still  more  criminal  but  for  this.  It  has  often  struck 
an  irresolution,  a  timidity,  into  the  sinner,  by  which 
his  intention  has  been  frustrated.  Its  bitter  and  vin- 
dictive reproaches  after  sin,  have  prevented  so  speedy 
or  frequent  repetitions  of  the  sin.  It  has  prevented 
the  tvhole  man  from  being  gratified  by  sin;  it  has 
been  one  dissentient  power  among  his  faculties,  as 
■if,  among  a  company  of  gay  revellers,  there  should 
appear  one  dark  and  frowning  intruder,  whom  they 
could  neither  conciliate  nor  expel. 

17.  Conscience  will  minister  in  executing  the  'pen- 
alty of  the  law. — We  foresee  that  it  will  awake  !  and 
with  an  intensity  of  life  and  power  proportioned  to 
this  long  sleep,  as  if  it  had  been  growing  gigantic 
during  its  slumber.  It  will  rise  up  with  all  that  su- 
Deriority  of  ^^gor  with  which  the  body  will  rise  at 
the  resuri'ection.  It  will  awake  ! — probably  in  the 
last  hours  of  life.  But  if  not — it  will  nevertheless 
awake  !  In  the  other  world  there  is  something  whicl: 
will  certainly  awake  it  at  the  last  day. 

18.  Conscience  perverted  obscures  the  distinctions  of 
'the  law. — One  most  disastrous  circumstance  is  instant- 
ly presented  to  our  thoughts,  namely,  that  with  by  far 
the  gi'eatest  number  of  men  that  have  lived,  conscience 
has  been  separated  from  all  true  knowledge  of  God 
All  heathens,  of  all  ages  and  .countries  ;  with  but  lit- 


94  fosteh's  thoughts. 

tie  limitation  the  same  may  be  said  of  the  Mohamme- 
dans ;  and  to  a  very  great  extent  it  is  true  of  the  pa- 
pists. The  superior  and  eternal  order  of  principles 
is  nearly  out  of  sight,  as  in  some  counti'ies  they  rarely 
see  the  sun  or  the  stars. 

19.  Conscience  made  unfaithful  to  the  law. — Sup- 
posing the  whole  of  what  the  Divine  law  condemns, 
and  therefore  conscience  ought,  to  be  measured  by  a 
scale  of  one  hundred  degrees  of  aggravation — then 
4;he  censui-e  beginning  at  one,  will  become  extremely 
sevei'e  by  the  time  of  rising  to  fifty.  But  let  this  first 
fifty  be  struck  off,  as  harmless,  in  accommodation  to 
the  general  notions  and  customs — what  then?  Why 
then,  conscience  will  but  begin,  and  in  slight  terms, 
its  censures  at  the  fifty-first  degree,  and  so,  at  the 
very  top  of  the  scale,  will  pronounce  with  but  just 
that  emphasis  which  was  due  at  the  point  where  it 
began. 

20.  Modes  of  evading  the  law. — (1.)  The  bold,  di- 
rect, decisive  one,  is — infidelity  :  to  deny  the  exist- 
ence of  the  Supreme  Lawgiver  himself.  Then  the 
Sovereign  Voice  is  silent.  Then  the  destruction  of 
the  Divine  law  takes,  as  it  were,  from  the  centre  in- 
stead of  by  a  contraction  of  its  wide  extension.  Then 
all  things  are  right  which  men  wish,  and  can,  and 
dare  do  ;  right,  as  to  any  concern  of  conscience — the 
practical  regulations  which  atheists  would  feel  the 
necessity  for,  would  be  only  a  matter  of  policy  and 
mutual  self-defence. 

(2.)  To  reject  a  revelation  is  an  expedient  little 
less  summary  and  effectual  for  the  purj^ose.  A  God 
believed  or  supposed,  but  making  no  declaration  of 
his  will  and  the  retribution,  would  give  very  little  dis- 
turbance to  sinners.  For  as  to  what  has  been  termed 
natural  religion,  though  a  fine  systematic  theory  may 
be  framed,  it  is,  for  anything  like  practical  effect,  no 
more  than  a  dream.  It  was  so  amons;  the  bulk  of 
the   cultivated  heathens ;   and  now  the  rejecters  of 


LAW    OF    GOD.  95 

revelation  would  be  sure  not  to  allow  themselves  to 
be  tlefrauded  of  tlieiv  advantage  by  admitting  any- 
thing move  than  tliey  liked  of"  the  rules  and  authority 
of  natural  religion. 

(3.)  By  the  indulgence  of  sin,  not  only  in  action  or 
thought,  but  also  in  the  heart.  It  is  by  the  under- 
standing and  the  conscience  that  the  Divine  law  is  to 
be  appi'ehended  in  its  amplitude.  Now  nothing  is 
moi'e  notorious  than  the  baneful  effect  which  in- 
dulged and  practised  sin  has  on  both  these.  It  in- 
flicts a  grossness  on  the  understanding,  which  ren- 
ders it  totally  unadapted  to  take  cognizance  of  any- 
thing which  is  to  be  sj^iritually  discerned — as  una- 
dapted as  our  bodily  senses  are  to  perceive  spirits. 
It  throws  a  thick  obscurity  over  the  whole  vision  of 
the  Divine  law,  so  that  nothing  of  it  is  distinctly  pei- 
ceived,  except  where  sometimes  some  part  of  it 
breaks  out  in  thunder.  The  conscience  partakes  the 
stupefaction — is  insensible  to  a  thousand  accusations 
and  menaces  of  the  Divine  law,  every  one  of  which 
ought  to  have  been  pungent  and  painful. 

(4.)  The  general  operation  of  self-love.  The  be- 
ing has  a  certain  sense  of  not  being  in  a  state  of  peace 
and  harmony  with  God,  but  oi"  alienation,  opposition, 
and  in  a  degree  hostility,  but  still  devotedly  loves  it- 
self. It  has  therefore  a  set  of  self-defensive  feeling's 
agamst  him.  But  smce  it  could  not  defend  itself 
against  his  power,  it  endeavors  to  defend  itself  against 
his  ]^\v.  It  ventures  to  question  the  necessity  or  pro- 
priety of  one  point  of  his  law ;  refuses  to  admit  the 
plain  intei-pretation  of  another,  or  to  admit  the  cleai 
inferences  from  undeniable  rules.  It  makes  large 
portions  of  the  Divine  law  refer  to  other  men  and 
times  ;  to  special  and  transient  occasions  and  circum- 
stances; is  ingenious  in  inventing  exemptions  for  it- 
self; weakens  the  force  of  both  the  meaning  and  the 
authority  of  the  Divine  dictates  which  it  can  not  avert 
from  their  application   to  itself     Thus  it  "  rendei^s 


96  Foster's  thoughts. 

void"  much  of  both  the  spii-it  and  the  letter;  and  thus 
places  itself  amid  a  dwindled  and  falsified  system  of 
the  Divine  legislation. 

(5.)  The  influence  of  the  customs  and  maxims  of 
the  world.  For  a  moment,  suppose  these  admitted 
to  constitute  the  supreme  law  and  standard.  Let  all 
that  these  adjudge  superfluous,  be  left  out  and  re- 
jected ;  all  that  these  aecount  indifferent,  be  set  down 
BO ;  all  that  these  warrant  by  practice,  be  foiTnally 
sanctioned ;  all  that  these  pronounce  honorable  and 
admirable,  be  inscribed  in  golden  letters  ;  all  that 
these  have  settled  as  true  wisdom,  be  adopted  as 
principles  and  oracles.  Especially,  let  what  the  cus- 
tom and  notions  of  the  world  have  mainly  satisfied 
themselves  with  in  respect  to  religion  be  admitted, 
as  the  true  scheme  of  our  relations  and  duties  to  God. 
This  system  now  ! — Let  it  be  placed  opposite  to  the 
Divine  law !  Would  it  not  be  hke  Baal's  prophets 
confronting  Elijah  ]  like  Satan  propounding  doctrine 
to  our  Lord  ]  like  a  holy  angel  and  the  devil  looking 
in  each  other's  face  ?  But,  think  ! — this  is  actually 
the  system  on  which  the  notions  and  habits  of  the 
multitude  are  formed  !  Thus  the  Divine  law,  in  its 
exceeding  breadth,  is  n.ade,  as  it  is  said  of  the  heav- 
ens, to  *'  depart  as  a  scroll  that  is  rolled  together." 

(6.)  A  notion  and  a  feeling  as  if,  man  being  so  very 
imperfect  a  creature,  it  can  not  be  that  there  is  an 
absolutely  perfect  law  in  authority  over  him.  It  is 
impossible  for  him  to  meet  such  a  law  in  full  con- 
formity, and  therefore  it  is  a  moderate  and  more  in- 
dulgent one  that  he  is  responsible  to.  But  w^here  is 
there  any  declaration  of  such  a  law  ]  What  can  the 
idea  really  mean,  but  a  tolerance  and  approval  of. 
something  that  is  evil?  Something  different  from 
that  which  is  perfect — less  than — what  can  this  be 
but  evil  ?  Shall  there  be  a  law  from  the  holy  God  to 
sanction  evil,  because  man  is  evil  1 

(7.)  The  plea  of  gi-ace,  which  pi'etends  to  absolve 


LAW    OF    GOD.  97 

Christians  from  the  claims  of  the  sovereign  rule,  be- 
cause their  justification  is  on  an  entirely  different 
ground.  So  that  they  stand  as  independent  of  the 
law  as  he  is  who  appointed  it.  There  are  different 
degrees  in  wliich  this  odious  heresy  is  made  a  prac- 
tical principle.  A  spirit  truly  renewed  through  di- 
vine grace,  becomes  an  emphatic  approver  of  the  law. 
It  is  a  reflection  of  the  character  of  Him  whom  he 
adores,  and  wishes  to  resemble. 
9 


98  Foster's  thoughts. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

VIEWS    AND    ILLUSTRATIONS    OF    THE    INDIVIDUAL    AND 
SOCIAL    DEPRAVITY    OF    MAN. 

1.  Sinful  nature  of  man  disclosed  by  his  acts. — 
Look  at  the  general  qualities  of  actions  over  this  wide 
world,  and  think  what  they  collectively  testify  o^man  ! 
And  in  noticing  men's  actions  in  the  detail,  it  will  be 
a  useful  exercise  and  habit  to  ti-ace  them  back  to 
what  they  proceed  from  in  the  nature  of  man,  and 
what  they  therefore  show  to  be  in  that  nature.  Hu- 
man nature  discloses  itself  freely,  fully,  and  fear- 
lessly, in  some  men ;  wuth  caution,  art,  and  partial 
concealment,  in  others.  But  a  multitude  of  unequiv- 
ocal manifestations  of  all  its  attributes  will  present 
themselves  to  tlie  attentive  obsener.  It  is  of  course 
that  he  ought  to  maintain  candor  or  rather  say  equi- 
ty ;  but  he  is  not  to  let  go  the  plain  maxim  that  the 

fruits  show  the  tree For  whence  does  all  the 

evil  in  action  come  from  ?  Is  the  heart  becoming 
drained  into  purity,  by  so  much  evil  having  come 
from  it  ]  Alas  !  there  is  a  perennial  fountain,  unless 
a  Divine  hand  close  it. 

2.  Ruling  2^<^^^ions  of  man  selfsh. — The  main 
streno'th  of  human  feelinors  consists  in  the  love  of 
sensual  gratification,  of  distinction,  of  power,  and  of 
money. 

3.  The  vast  amount  of  wickedness,  repressed  by 
menaced  retribution,  to  be  charged  to  the  account  of  hu- 
man nature. — The  man  inclined  to  perpetrate  an  ini- 
quity, of  the  nature  of  a  wrong  to  his  fellow-mortals. 


DEPRAVITY    OF    MAN.  99 

is  apprized  that  lie  shall  provoke  a  reaction,  to  resist  or 
punish  him  ;  that  he  shall  incur  as  gi-eat  an  evil  as 
that  he  is  disposed  to  do,  or  greater;  that  either  a 
revenge  regardless  of  all  formalities  of  justice  will 
strike  him,  or  a  process  instituted  in  organized  soci- 
ety will  vindictively  reach  his  property,  liberty,  or  life. 
This  defensive  array,  of  all  men  against  all  men,  com- 
pels to  remain  shut  up  within  the  mind  an  immensity 
of  wickedness  which  is  there  burning  to  come  out 

into  action It  is   not  very  uncommon  to  hear 

credit  given  to  human  nature,  apparently  in  sober 
simplicity,  for  the  whole  amount  of  the  negation  of 
bad  actions  thus  prevented,  as  just  so  much  genuine 
virtue,  by  some  dealers  in  moral  and  theological  spec- 
ulation. 

4.  Civil  law  and,  philosophy  can  not  avail  fully  to 
repress  depravity. — There  was  nothing  to  insinuate 
or  to  force  its  way  into  the  recesses  of  the  soul,  to 
apply  there  a  repressive  power  to  the  depraved  ar- 
dor which  glowed  in  the  passions.  That  was  left, 
inaccessible  and  inextinguisliable,  as  the  subterra- 
nean fires  in  a  volcanic  region Reflect  on  the 

extent  of  human  genius,  in  its  powers  of  invention, 
coiTibination,  and  adaptation  ;  and  then  think  of  all 
this  faculty — in  an  immense  number  of  minds,  through 
many  ages,  and  in  every  imaginable  vaiiety  of  situa- 
tion, exerted  with  unremitting  activity  in  aid  of  the 
wrong  propensities. 

5.  Philosophers  overlooking  the  moral  perversion 
of  human  nature  hlind  guides. — Here  in  a  moral  sense 
are  wheels  that  will  not  turn — springs  without  elas- 
ticity— levers  that  break  in  the  application  of  their 
force ;  and  you  tell  me  there  is  no  radical  fault  in  the 
machinery  !  One  thing  is  clear,  that  I  can  never  learn 
ffom  instructors  like  you,  how  to  have  the  miserable 
disorder  rectified.  You  know  too  little  of  mankind 
— about  yourselves — about  the  great  standard. 

6.  Rcjyroductive  2^ower  of  moral  evil — It  is  jier 


100  Foster's  TiiouanTS. 

pctually  invigorated  by  the  vei-y  destruction  which 
It  works  ;  as  if  it  fed  upon  the  slain  to  strengthen 
itself  for  new  slaughtei-,  and  absorbed  into  its  own, 
every  life  which  it  takes  away.  For  it  is  in  the  na- 
ture of  moral  evil,  as  acting  on  human  beings,  to 
create  to  itself  new  facilities,  means,  and  force,  for 
prolonging  that  action.  And  to  what  a  dreadful  per- 
fection of  evil  might  sUch  a  race  attain  but  for  death, 
that  cuts  the  term  of  indiA-iduals  so  short,  and  but  for 
the  Spiiit  of  God,  that  converts  some,  and  puts  a 
degree  of  resti-aint  on  the  rest. 

7.  Depra  vitij  impressed  vpon  th  e  ch  ief  works  of  man. 
— False  religion  that  has  raised  so  many  superb  tem- 
ples, of  which  the  smallest  remaining  ruins  bear  an 
impressive  character  of  grandeur ;  that  has  prompted 
the  creation,  from  shapeless  masses  of  substance,  of 
so  many  beautiful  or  monstrous  fonns,  representing 
fabulous  super-human  and  divine  beings  ;  and  that 
has  produced  some  of  the  most  stupendous  works  in- 
tended as  abodes,  or  monuments,  of  the  dead.  It  is 
the  evil  next  in  eminence,  war,  that  has  caused  the 
earth  to  be  embossed  with  so  many  thousands  of  mas- 
sy structures  in  the  form  of  towers  and  defensive 
walls — so  many  remains  of  ancient  camps — so  many 
traces  of  the  labors  by  which  armies  overcame  the 
obstacles  opposed  to  them  by  rivers,  rocks,  or  mount- 
ains— and  so  many  triumj^hal  edifices  raised  to  per- 
petuate the  gloi-y  of  conquerors.  It  is  the  opj)ressive 
self-importance  of  imperial  tyrants,  and  of  their  infe- 
rior commanders  of  human  toils,  that  has  erected  those 
magnificent  residences  which  make  a  far  greater  figure 
in  our  imagination,  than  the  collective  dwellings  of 
the  humbler  population  of  a  whole  continent,  and  that 
has  in  some  spots  thrown  the  sui  face  of  the  earth  into 
new  foiTus. 

8.  Character  of  the  mass  not  to  be  inferred  from 
individual  examples  of  virtue. — There  Avas  perhaps 
a  learned  and  vigorous  monai'ch,   and  there  were 


DEPRAVITY    OP    MAN.  101 

Cecils,  and  Walsingliams,  and  Sliakspercs,  and  Sid- 
neys, and  Spencers,  with  many  other  powerful  think- 
ers and  actors,  to  render  it  the  proudest  age  of  our 
national  glory.  And  we  thoughtlessly  admit  on  our 
imagination  this  splendid  exhibition  as  in  some  man- 
ner involving  or  implying  the  collective  state  of  the 
people  in  that  age  !  The  ethereal  summits  of  a  tract 
of  the  moral  world  are  conspicuous  and  fair  in  the 
lustre  of  heaven,  and  we  take  no  thought  of  the  im- 
mensely greater  proportion  of  it  which  is  sunk  in 
gloom  and  covered  with  the  shadows  of  ignorance 
and  vice. 

9.  \Vicked?iess  amid  scenes  ofheaiity. — That  there 
is  a  luxuriant  verdure — that  there  ai'e  flowers — rich 
fields — fi-uitful  trees — pleasing  sounds,  and  tastes, 
and  odors — streams — soft  gales — picturesque  land- 
scapes— what  is  all  this  as  set  against  the  other  fact, 
that  there  are — in  almost  infinite  mass,  and  number, 
and  variety — bad  dispositions  and  passions — bad 
principles — wicked  thoughts — vile  language — im- 
pieties and  crimes  o?  a.\\  i^ossihlc  kinds'? 

10.  Appalling  aspect  of  marl's  depravity. — Consid- 
ering man  in  this  view,  the  sacred  oracles  have  repre- 
sented him  as  a  more  melancholy  object  than  Xineveh 
or  Babylon  in  ruins  ;  and  an  infinite  aggregate  of  ob- 
vious facts  confinns  the  doctrine, 

11.  Popular  moral  ignorance.  The  masses  in  a 
condition  analogous  to  what  their  physical  existence 
Avould  have  been  under  a  total  and  permanent  eclipse 
of  the  sun.  It  was  perpetual  night  in  their  souls, 
with  all  the  phenomena  incident  to  night,  except  the 
sublimity. 

12.  A  figure  of  the  moral  state  of  the  world — The 
right  state  of  the  sun  is  to  be  one  full  orb  of  radiance  ; 
that  though  there  be  some  small  spots  and  dimmer 
points,  it  should  be  in  effect  a  complete  and  glorious 
luminary  !  Imagine  then  if  you  can  this  eff"ulgence 
extinguished,  and  turned  to  blackness  over  all  its  glo- 

9* 


102  Foster's  thoughts. 

rious  face,  excepting  here  anJ  there  a  most  tliminu- 
tive  point,  emitting  one  bright  J-ay  like  a  small  star. 
What  a  ghastly  jihcnoiriena  !  and  if  it  continued  so 
the  utter  ruin  of  the  system.  But  such  we  behold 
the  condition  of  the  human  race In  the  incal- 
culable human  mass  of  a  whole  idolatrous  wf»rld,  we 
are  shown  here  and  there  an  individual,  or  a  diminu- 
tive combination  of  individuals,  little  shining  particles, 
specimens  of  what  the  rig/it  state  of  the  world  would 
Jiave  been. 

13.  Aggregate  view  of  the  hiatory  of  the  world 
appalling. — I  have  sometimes  thought,  if  the  sun 
were  an  intelligence,  he  would  be  horribly  incensed 
at  the  world  he  is  appointed  to  enlighten ;  such  a 
tale  of  ages,  exhibiting  a  tiresome  repetition  of  stu- 
pidity, follies,  and  cinmes. 

14.  Common  persuasion  of  human  depravity. — 
We  have  such  an  habitual  persuasion  of  the  general 
depravity  of  human  nature,  that  in  falling  among 
strangers  we  always  reckon  on  their  being  irreligious, 
till  we  discover  some  specific  indication  of  the  con- 
trary. 

15.  Popular  ignorance  intercepts  tJie  rays  of  moral 
illumination. — Utter  ignorance  is  a  most  effectual 
fortification  to  a  bad  state  of  the  mind.  Prejudice 
may  perhaps  be  removed  ;  unbelief  may  be  reasoned 
with ;  even  demoniacs  have  been  compelled  to  bear 
witness  to  the  truth  ;  but  the  stupidity  of  confirmed 
ignorance  not  only  defeats  the  ultimate  efficacy  of  the 
means  for  making  men  wiser  and  better,  but  stands 
in  preliminary  defiance  to  the  very  act  of  their  ap- 
plication. It  reminds  us  of  an  account,  in  one  of  the 
relations  of  the  French  Egyptian  campaigns,  of  the 
attempt  to  reduce  a  garrison  posted  in  a  bulky  fort 
of  mud.  Had  the  defences  been  of  timber,  the  be- 
siegers might  have  set  fire  to  and  burnt  them  ;  had 
they  been  of  stone,  they  might  have  shaken  and  ul- 
timately breached  them  by  the  batteiy  of  theii  can- 


DEPRAVITY    OF    MAN.  103 

non;  or  they  might  have  undermined  and  blown  them 
up.  But  the  huge  mound  of  mud  had  nothing  sus- 
ceptible of  fire  or  any  other  force  ;  the  missiles  from 
the  artillery  were  discharged  but  to  be  buried  in  the 
dull  mass  ;   and   all  the  means   of  demolition    were 

baffled He  finds,  as  he  might  expect  to  find, 

that  a  conscience  without  knowledge  has  never  taken 
but  a  very  small  portion  of  the  man's  habits  of  life, 
under  its  Jurisdiction  ;  and  that  it  is  a  most  hopeless 
thing  to  attempt  to  send  it  back  reinforced,  to  reclaim 
and  conquer,  through  all  the  past,  the  whole  extent 
of  its  rightful  but  never  assumed  dominion. 

16.  Stupidity  of  ignorard  wickedness  at  the  ap- 
proach of  death. — They  had  actually  never  thought 
enough  of  death  to  have  any  solemn  associations  with 
the  idea.  And  their  faculties  were  become  so  rigid- 
ly shrunk  up,  that  they  could  not  now  admit  them  ; 
no,  not  while  the  portentous  spectre  was  unveiling 
his  visage  to  them,  in  near  and  still  nearer  approach  ; 
not  when  the  element  of  another  world  was  begin- 
ning to  penetrate  through  the  rents  of  their  mortal 
tabeniacle.  It  appeared  that  literally  their  thoughts 
could  not  go  out  fiom  what  they  had  been  through 
life  immei-sed  in,  to  contemplate,  with  any  realizing 
feeling,  a  grand  change  of  being,  expected  so  soon 
to  come  on  them.  They  could  not  go  to  the  fearful 
brink  to  look  off.  It  was  a  stupor  of  the  soul  not  to 
be  awakened  but  by  the  actual  plunge  into  the  reali- 
ties of  eternity.  "  I  hope  it  will  please  God  soon  to 
release  me,''  was  the  expression  to  his  religious  med- 
ical attendant  of  such  an  ignorant  and  insensible  mor- 
tal within  an  hour  of  his  death  which  was  evidently 
and  directly  brought  on  by  his  vices. 

17.  Portentous  aspect  of  masses  of  human  beings 
perishing  for  lack  of  knowledge. — We  have  often 
mused,  and  felt  a  gloom  and  dreariness  spreading 
over  the  mind  while  musing,  on  descriptions  of  the 
aspect  of  a  country  after  a  pestilence  has  left  it  in 


104  Foster's  TuauGnxs. 

desolation,  or  of  a  region  where  the  people  are  per- 
ishing by  famine.  It  has  seemed  a  mournful  thing 
to  behold,  in  contemplation,  the  multitude  of  lifeless 
forms,  occupying  in  silence  the  same  abodes  in  which 
they  had  lived,  or  scattered  upon  the  gardens,  fields, 
and  roads;  and  then  to  see  the  countenances  of  the 
beings  yet  languishing  in  life,  looking  despair,  and 
impressed  with  the  signs  of  approaching  death.  We 
have  even  sometimes  had  the  vivid  and  horrid  picture 
offered  to  our  imagination,  of  a  number  of  human 
creatures  shut  up  by  their  fellow-mortals  in  some 
stronghold,  under  an  entire  privation  of  ^sustenance ; 
and  presenting  each  day  theirimploring,  or  infuriated, 
or  grimly  sullen,  or  more  calmly  woful  countenances, 
at  the  iron  and  impregnable  grates  ;  each  succeeding 
day  more  haggard,  and  miserable,  more  perfect  in 
the  image  of  despair;  and  after  a  while  appearing 
each  day  one  fewer,  till  at  last  all  have  sunk.  Now 
shall  we  feel  it  as  a  rdief  to  turn  in  thought,  as  to  a 
sight  of  less  portentous  evil,  from  the  inhabitants  of 
a  country,  or  from  those  of  such  an  accursed  prison- 
house,  thus  pining  away,  to  behold  the  different  spec- 
tacle of  national  tribes,  or  any  more  limited  portion 
of  mankind,  on  whose  minds  are  displayed  the  full 
effects  of  knowledge  denied  ;  who  are  under  the  pro- 
cess of  whatever  destruction  it  is,  that  spirits  can  suf- 
fer from  want  of  the  vital  aliment  to  the  intelligent 
nature,  especially  from  "a  famine  of  the  words  of  the 
Lord  ]"....  Since  that  period  when  ancient  history, 
strictly  so  named,  left  off  describing  the  state  of  man- 
kind, more  than  a  myriad  of  millions  of  our  race  have 
been  on  earth,  and  quitted  it  without  one  ray  of  the 
knowledge  the  most  important  to  spirits  sojourning 
here,  and  going  hence. 

18.  Hetrospect  of  the  heathen  world. — We  can  not 
look  that  way  but  we  see  the  whole  field  covered 
with  inflicters  and  sufferers,  not  seldom  interchanging 
those  characters.     If  that  field  widens  to  our  view,  it 


DEPRAVIxy    OF    MAN.  105 

is  still,  to  the  utmost  line  to  which  the  shade  clears 
away,  a  scene  of  cmclty,  oppression,  and  slavery  ;  of 
the  strong  trampling  on  the  weak,  and  the  weak  of- 
ten attempting  to  bite  at  the  feet  of  the  strong ;  of 
rancorous  aniiiiosities  and  murderous  competitions  of  • 
persons  raised  above  the  mass  of  the  community ;  of 
treacheries  and  massacres ;  and  of  war,  between 
hordes,  and  cities,  and  nations,  and  empires — war 
never ,  in  spirit,  intermitted,  and  suspended  sometimes 
in  act  only  to  acquire  renewed  force  for  destruction, 
or  to  find  another  assemblage  of  hated  creatures  to 
cut  in  pieces. 

19.  State  of  tlic pagan  world. — While  the  immense 
aggregate  is  displayed  to  the  mental  view,  as  per- 
vaded, agitated,  and  stimulated,  by  the  restless  forces 
of  appetites  and  passions,  and  those  forces  operating 
with  an  impulse  no  less  perverted  than  strong,  let  it 
be  asked  what  kinds  and  measure  of  restraint  there 
could  be  upon  such  a  world  of  creatures  so  actuated, 
to  keep  them  from  rushing  in  all  ways  into  evil. 

20.  Thick  darhness  of  Ro?nanis?n  intimtated  hy  tlie 
sombre  sliadotvs  still  resting  on  nations  and  the  church. 
— Indeed,  the  thickness  of  the  preceding  darkness 
was  strikingly  manifested  by  the  deep  shade  which 
still  continued  stretched  over  the  nation,  in  spite  of 
the  newly-risen  luminary,  whose  beams  lost  their 
brightness  in  pei-vading  it  to  reach  the.  popular  mind, 
and  came  with  the  faintness  of  an  obscured  and  te- 
dious dawn. 

21.  Savage  state. — But  he  would  become  sober 
enough,  if  compelled  to  travel  a  thousand  miles 
through  the  desert,  or  over  the  snow,  with  some  of 
these  subjects  of  his  lectures  ard  legislation ;  to  ac- 
company them  in  a  hunting  excursion ;  to  choose  in 
a  stormy  night  between  exposure  in  the  open  air  and 
in  the  smoke  and  grossness  of  their  cabins;  to  ob- 
serve the  intellectual  faculty  nanowed  almost  to  a 
point,  limited  to  a  scanty  number  of  the  meanest 


106  poster's  thoughts. 

class  of  ideas  ;  to  find  by  repeated  expeiiments  that 
Jiis  kind  of  ideas  could  neither  reach  their  undei'- 
standing  nor  excite  their  curiosity ;  to  see  the  raven- 
ous appetite  of  wolves  succeeded  for  a  season  by  a 
stupidity  insensible  even  to  the  few  interests  which 
kindle  the  utmost  ardor  of  a  savage  ;  to  witness  loath- 
some habits  occasionally  diversified  by  abominable 
ceremonies ;  or  to  be  for  once  the  spectator  of  some 
of  the  circumstances  which  accompany  the  wars  of 
savasres. 

22.  Depravity  a  harrier  to  the  benejicent  operation 
of  government. — No  form  of  government  will  be  prac- 
tically good,  as  long  as  the  nations  to  be  govemed  are 
in  a  controversy,  by  their  vices  and  irreligion,  with 
the  Supreme  Governor, 

23.  Depravity  assimilates  civil  institutions  to  its 
own  standard. — It  will  pervert  even  the  very  schemes 
and  operations  by  which  the  world  would  be  im- 
proved, though  their  first  principles  were  pure  as 
Heaven  ;  and  revolutions,  gi'eat  discoveries,  augment- 
ed science,  and  new  forms  of  polity,  will  become  in 
effect  what  may  be  denominated  the  sublime  mechan- 
ics of  depravity. 

24.  Of  an  extremely  depraved  child. — I  never  saw 
so  much  essence  of  devil  put  in  so  small  a  vessel. 

25.  The  2)agan  world — its  degrading  rites,  degra- 
ded population,  and  evidences  of  spiritual  death. — Let 
him  [the  observer]  enter  a  country  where  the  majes- 
tic idea  of  a  Deity,  originally  imparted  to  our  race,  is 
transmuted  into  an  endless  miscellany  of  fantastic  and 
odious  fables,  in  what  are  esteemed  the  sacred  books, 
and  in  the  minds  of  that  small  proportion  of  the  in- 
habitants that  read  them  ;  and  where  the  mass  of  mil- 
lions, together  too  with  the  more  cultivated  few,  fall 
prostrate  in  adoration  of  the  rudest  pieces  of  mud 
and  lumber  that  their  own  hands  can  shape.  Let 
him  walk  out  from  his  retired  room  or  tent,  after  his 
soul  has  been  raised  in  prayer  to  a  real  and  an  infi- 


DEPRAVITY    OF    MAN.  107 

nite  Being,  and  approach  one  of  those  many  shrines, 
which,  in  a  populous  district,  he  may  see  deforming 
the  country  around  him,  and  behold  a  number  of  crea- 
tures in  his  own  sliape  fixed  in  petiified  reverence, 
or  performing  grave  ritual  antics,  befoi'e  a  filthy  fig- 
ure, or  sometimes  an  unshaped  lump  of  wood  or  stone, 
daubed  black  and  red,  which  piece  of  rubbish,  witli- 
out  a  shape,  or  in  a  shape  more  vile  and  ugly  than  it 
is  possible  for  European  hands  to  make,  stands  there 
in  substitution  for  that  Infinite  Spirit  which  he  has 
just  been  worshipping  :  it  stands  for  the  most  part  in 
real  and  perfect  substitution ;  but  if  it  were  in  repre- 
sentation, the  case  would  be  very  little  better 

Let  him  observe,  as  performed  at  the  dictate  of  the 
laws,  customs,  and  priests,  of  this  superstition,  such 
barbarous  and  whimsical  self-inflicted  penances  and 
torture,  and  such  sacrifices  of  living  relatives,  as  it 
would  be  supposed  some  possessing  fiend  had  com- 
pelled the  wretched  pagans  to  adopt  for  his  diver- 
sion ;  let  him  observe,  amid  these  tyrannic  rigors  of 
a  super-conscience,  an  entii'e  want  of  conscience  with 
respect  to  the  great  principles  of  morality,  and  the 
extinction  in  a  great  degree  of  the  ordinary  sympa- 
thies of  human  nature  for  suffering  objects ;  let  him 
notice  the  deceitful  and  cruel  character  of  the  priest, 
exactly  conformable  to  the  spirit  of  the  superstition ; 
and  let  him  consider  those  unnatural  but  insuperable 
distinctions  of  the  classes  of  society,  which  equally 
degrade  the  one  by  a  stupid,  servility,  and  the  other 
by  a  stupid  pride.  And,  finally,  let  him  reflect  that 
each  day  many  thousands  of  such  deluded  creatures 
are  dying,  destitute  of  all  that  knowledge,  those  con- 
solations, and  those  prospects,  for  which  he  adores 
the  author  of  the  Christian  revelation.  How  would 
he  be  able  to  quell  the  sentiment  of  horror  which 
would  arise  in  his  mind  at  every  view  and  every 
thought  of  what  we  have  thus  supposed  him  to  wit- 
ness ?     H3  would  feel  as  if  something  demoniac  in- 


108  Foster's  thoughts. 

fested  all  the  land  and  pervaded  all  the  air,  inspiring 
a  general  madness  previous  to  a  general  execution. 
For  he  would  feel  an  unconquerable  impression  that 
a  land  could  not  be  so  abandoned  of  the  Divine  mer- 
cy, but  to  be  soon  visited  by  the  Divine  vengeance ; 
and  that  vengeance  he  would  hardly  at  some  mo- 
ments be  able  to  deprecate,  while  beholding  the  oc- 
casional extraordinary  excesses  of  frantic  abomina- 
tion. It  would  appear  to  him  that  the  very  time  was 
come  for  a  glonous  display  of  justice,  and  that  such 
a  solitude  as  Noah  found,  on  descending  from  the 
ark,  would  be  a  dejightful  sequel  to  this  populous 

and  raging  tumult  of  impiety A  moral  sense 

that  belongs  to  man  is  wanting  in  them ;  so  that  infi- 
nitely the  most  important  of  the  elements  and  phe- 
nomena of  the  world  are  unapparent  and  impalpable 
to  them :  just  as  much  so  as  that  class  of  things  and 
properties  are  to  our  present  five  senses,  which  might, 
as  Locke  observes,  have  been  perceptible  to  us  by 
means  of  a  sixth  or  seventh  sense,  which  the  Creator 
could  no  doubt  have  given  us.  To  these  men,  all  the 
concerns  and  interests  designated  by  the  tei-ms  divine, 
spiritual,  immortal,  are  nearly  the  same  as  non-existent. 

26.  Depravity  evinced  in  a  universal  tendency  to  so- 
cial deterioration. — All  political  institutions  will  prob- 
ably, from  whatever  cause,  tend  to  become  worse 
by  time.  If  a  system  were  now  formed,  that  should 
meet  all  the  philosopher's  and  the  philanthropist's 
wishes,  it  would  still  have  the  same  tendency  ;  only 
I  do  hope  that  henceforward  to  the  end  of  time,  men's 
minds  will  be  intensely  awake  to  the  nature  and  op- 
eration of  their  institutions  ;  so  that  after  a  new  era 
shall  commence,  governments  shall  not  slide  into  de- 
pravity without  being  keenly  watched,  nor  be  watch- 
ed without  the  sense  and  spirit  to  arrest  their  de- 
terioration. 

27.  The  formidahle  prevalence  of  evil  an  inscrutahle 
myste>-y. — The  prevalence  of  evil  in  only  this  one 


DEPRAVITY    OF    MAN.  109 

world,  is  an  inexpressibly  mysterious  and  awful  fact ; 
insomuch,  that  all  attempts  to  explain  Jiorv  it  is  con- 
sistent with  the  perfect  goodness  of  an  Almighty  Be- 
ino-,  have  left  us  in  utter  despair  of  any  approach 
toward  comprehending  it.  A  pious  spirit,  not  delu- 
ded by  any  of  the  vain  and  presumptuous  theories 
of  philosophical  or  theological  explanation,  while 
looking  toward  this  unfathomable  subject,  can  repose 
only  in  a  general  confidence  that  the  dreadful  fact, 
of  the  prevalence  of  evil  in  this  planet,  is  in  some  un- 
imaginable way  combined  with  such  relations,  and 
such  a  state  of  the  grand  whole  of  the  divine  empire, 
that  it  is  perfectly  consistent  with  infinite  goodness  in 
Him  that  made  and  directs  all  things. 

28.  Depravity  evinced  by  formidahle  opposition 
to  the  progress  of  religion,  and  relentless  persecution 
of  the  witnesses  to  the  truth  in  successive  ages. — 
Through  a  vast  space  of  past  time,  there  has  been 
only  a  most  diminutive  number  on  the  whole  eai'th, 
of  such  as  truly  knew,  and  feared,  and  served  God. 
And  during  periods  in  which  they  have  been  a  some- 
what more  perceptible  portion  of  the  race,  think  how 
the  world  has  often  treated  them  ;  as  if  they  were 
foreigners  and  intruders,  occupying  a  place  to  which 
they  had  no  right.  A  very  considerable  portion  of 
the  history  of  the  world,  is  a  record  of  the  persecu- 
tions that  have  raged  against  them.  Monarchs,  vvith 
the  co-operation  of  their  counsellors,  captains,  priests, 
and  the  ignorant  brutish  multitude,  have  ever  sought 
to  make  it  a  chief  distinction  and  glory  of  their  reigns 
that  they  zealously  endeavored  the  destruction  of 
the  saints  of  the  Most  High.  .  .  .  The  malignity  of  hu- 
man nature,  has  appeared  tenfold  malignant  when 
vented  in  the  direction  of  hostility  to  true  religion. 
It  has  then  glared  out  a  fiend,  delighting  and  luxu- 
riating in  savage  barbarity. 
10 


110  Foster's  thoughts. 


CHAPTER  V. 

VIEWS    OF    CHRISTIANITY. ITS    DOCTRINES    AND    AP- 
PLICATIONS. 

1.  Gompendiousnessoftlie  Christian  scheme. — Tliere 
is  a  sublime  economy  of  invisible  realities.  There 
is  the  Supreme  Existence,  an  infinite  and  eternal 
Spirit.  There  are  spiritual  existences,  that  have 
kindled  into  brightness  and  power,  from  nothing,  at 
his  creating  will.  There  is  a  universal  jjovernment, 
omnipotent,  all-wise,  and  righteous,  of  that  Supreme 
Being  over  the  creation.  There  is  the  immense  tribe 
of  human  spirits,  in  a  most  peculiar  and  alarming  pre- 
dicament, held  under  eternal  obligation  of  conformity 
to  a  law  proceeding  from  the  holiness  of  that  Being, 
but  perverted  to  a  state  of  disconformity  to  it,  and 
opposition  to  him.  Next,  there  is  a  signal  anomaly 
of  moral  government,  the  constitution  of  a  new  state 
of  relation  between  the  Supreme  Governor  and  this 
alienated  race,  through  a  Mediator,  who  makes  an 
atonement  for  human  iniquity,  and  stands  represent- 
ative before  Almighty  Justice,  for  those  who  in  grate- 
ful accordance  to  the  mysterious  appointment  con- 
sign  themselves  to  his  charge.  There  are  the  several 
doctrines  declaratory  of  this  new  constitution  through 
all  its  parts  There  is  the  view  of  religion  in  its  op- 
erative character,  or  the  doctrine  of  the  application 
of  its  truths  and  precepts  by  a  divine  agency  to 
transform  the  mind  and  rectify  the  life.  And  this 
solemn  array  of  all  the  sublimest  reality,  and  most 
important  intelligence,  is  extending  infinitely  away 


DOCTRINES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  Ill 

beyond  the  sensible  horizon  of  our  present  state  to 
an  invisible  world,  to  which  the  spirits  of  men  pro- 
ceed at  death  for  judgment  and  retribution,  and  with 
the  prospect  of  living  for  ever. 

2.  Salvation  hy  the  law  itnpossihlc. — The  plan  by 
the  law  was  evidently  an  utterly  ruined  plan  ;  it  could 
not  save  one;  it  could  only  condemn  to  perish.  If 
men  were  to  be  saved,  and  still  upon  the  original 
economy,  it  was  to  be  independently  of  the  law,  and 
in  opposition  to  it.  But,  independently,  and  in  op- 
position !  Who  would  make  them  independent  % 
Who  would  bear  them  harmless  in  that  opposition  ? 
If  the  divine  goodness  in  the  form  of  mercy  would 
do  it — what  became  of  the  divine  goodness  in  the 
fonii  of  righteousness  1  Should  the  rebellious  crea- 
tures utterly  violate  and  demolish  the  economy  of 
justice,  and  come  triumphant  out  of  its  ruin  as  hav 
ing  forced  the  Supreme  Governor  to  the  bare  ex- 
pedient of  mercy  % 

3.  A  Savior  unappreciated  without  achnowledg- 
nient  of  sin. — While  man  is  not  considered  as  lost, 
the  mind  can  not  do  justice  to  the  expedient,  or  to 
''  the  only  name  under  heaven,"  by  which  he  can  be  re- 
deemed. Accordingly  the  gift  of  Jesus  Christ  does 
not  appear  to  be  habitually  recollected  as  the  most 
illustiious  instance  of  the  beneficence  of  God  that  has 
ever  come  to  human  knowledge,  and  as  the  single 
fact  which,  more  than  all  others,  has  relieved  the 
awfulness  of  the  mystery  in  which  our  world  is  en- 
veloped. No  thankful  joy  seems  to  beam  forth  at  the 
thought  of  so  mighty  an  interposition,  and  of  him  who 
was  the  agent  of  it. 

4.  Necessity  of  atonement. — Think  intently  on  the 
malignant  nature  of  sin  ;  and  if  there  be  truth  in  God, 
it  is  inexpressibly  odious  to  him.  Then,  if  neverthe- 
less, such  sinners  are  to  be  pardoned,  does  it  not 
eminently  comport  with  the  divine  holiness — is  it  not 
due  to  it — that  in  the  very  medium  of  their  pardon. 


112  Foster's  thoughts. 

there  slioiiltl  be  some  signal  and  awful  act  of  a  judi- 
cial and  j)onal  kind  to  record  and  render  memorable 
for  ever  a  righteous  God's  judgment — estimate  oi  that 
which  he  pardons  1 

5.  Cmnfortahh  reliance  upon  the  atonement. — With 
this  self-condemning  review,  and  with  nothing  but 
an  uncertain  and  possibly  small  remainder  of  life  in 
prospect,  how  emphatically  oppressive  would  be  the 
conscious  situation,  if  there  were  not  that  great  pro- 
pitiation, that  redeeming  sacrifice,  to  rest  upon  for 
pardon  and  final  safety. 

6.  A  divine  liberator  from  the  prejudices  and  pas- 
sions of  depravity  necessary. — Many  are  in  subjection 
to  their  appetites  ;  many  to  the  most  foolish,  many  to 
the  most  vicious  passions.  Now  to  them,  what  an 
inconsiderable  good  is  their  political  liberty,  as  com- 
pared with  the  evil  of  this  slavery  !  and  yet,  amid  it 
all,  there  is  the  self-complacency,  the  pride,  the  boast- 
ing of  fi  eedom  ! 

■  Take  another  exemplification.  A  high-spirited 
man  in  very  independent  circumstances,  with  confi- 
dence and  self-sufficiency  conspicuous  on  his  front ; 
in  numberless  cases  he  can  and  will  do  as  he  pleases  ; 
he  has  the  means  of  commanding  deference  and  ob- 
sequiousness, defies  and  spurns  interference  and  op- 
position;  and  says  "I  am  free  !"  For  all  this,  per- 
haps, he  is  but  the  stronger  slave.  All  the  while, 
his  whole  mind  and  moral  being  may  be  utterly  ser- 
vile to  some  evil  passion,  some  corrupt  puipose,  some 

vain  interest,  some  tyrannic  habit The  mass  of 

mankind  are  enslaved.  The  cool,  sagacious,  philo- 
sophic observer  thinks  so.  The  devout  Christian 
observer  thinks  so.  The  illuminated  dying  estimator 
thinks  so.  And  all  the  real  friends  of  our  race  would 
unite  to  implore  that  the  truth  might  come  to  perform 
its  mighty  work  ;  or,  in  other  words,  that  the  glorious 
Agent  of  human  deliverance,  the  Son  of  God  would 
eome  and  accomplish  that  work  by  means  of  "  the 


DOCTRINES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  113 

truth."  ....  If  we  would  form  a  notion  quite  com- 
prehensive of  what  may  be  regarded  as  placing  and 
keeping  men's  minds  in  an  enslaved  state,  we  should 
include  ignorance  and  all  error  tii rough  which  they 
receive  injury,  together  with  all  perversion  in  the 
passions,  and  all  that  perverts  them.  Now  against 
all  this  in  its  full  breadth,  truth,  universal  truth,  is  op- 
posed ;   and  the  effectual  application  of  truth   would 

counteract  and  reverse  it  all Here  is  the  grand 

and  urgent  occasion  for  the  Spirit  of  God  to  work — 
to  tiansfuse  a  new  and  redeeming  princi]>le  through 
the  moral  being,  and  then  the  man  is  free  !  The 
freed  spirit  feels  that  a  hateful,  direful  enchantment 
is  broken,  and  flies  to  its  God. 

7.  Mi/stcrj/  of  tJie  origin  of  evil. — We  must  con- 
fess we  should  think  that  the  less  use  is  made  in  reli- 
gion the  better,  of  philosophizings  which  are  precipi- 
tate toward  that  black  abyss.  It  really  would  appear 
to  us,  that  abstract  reasonings  on  will,  and  power, 
and  accountableness,  in  relation  to  man,  can  afford 
no  assistance,  none,  toward  the  fundamental  removal 
of  theological  difficulties  ;  and  that  the  only  resource, 
in  a  matter  like  that  to  which  we  have  been  advert- 
ing, is  in  a  simple  submissive  acceptance  of  the  dic- 
tates, and  adherence  to  the  practice,  of  the  inspired 
teachers,  and  of  their  Teacher. 

8.'  Technical  terms  sJiould  be  used  sparingly  in  dis- 
tinguishi/ig  Christian  doctrines. —  Technical  terms 
have  been  the  lights  of  science,  but,  in  many  instan- 
ces, the  shades  of  I'eligion. 

9.  Gospel  demeaned  by  bigoted  interpreters. — You 
might  often  meet  with  a  systematic  writer,  in  whose 
hands  the  whole  wealth,  and  variety,  and  magnifi- 
cence, of  revelation,  shrink  into  a  meager  list  of  doc- 
trinal points,  and  who  will  let  no  verse  in  the  Bible 
say  a  syllable  till  it  has  placed  itself  under  one  of 
them.  You  may  meet  with  a  Christian  polemic,  who 
seems  to  value  the  arguments  for  evangelical  truth 
10* 


114  Foster's  thoughts. 

as  an  assassin  values  his  daq-ger,  and  for  the  same 
reason  ;  with  a  descanter  on  the  invisilile  world,  who 
makes  you  think  of  a  popish  cathedral,  and  from  the 
vulgarity  of  whose  illuminations  you  are  excessively 
glad  to  escajie  into  the  solemn  twilight  of  faith  ;  or 
with  a  grim  zealot  for  a  theory  of  the  Divine  attri- 
butes, which  seems  to  delight  in  representing  the 
Deity  as  a  dreadful  king  of  furies,  whose  dominion 
is  overshaded  with  vengeance,  whose  music  is  the 
cries  of  victims,  and  whose  glory  i-equires  to  be  illus- 
trated by  the  ruin  of  his  creation. 

10.  Ignorance  and  hi  got  ri/  in  Christian  profession. 
— Some  people's  religion  is  for  want  of  sense  ;  if  they 
had  this,  they  would  have  no  religion,  for  their  reli- 
gion is  no  more  than  prejudice — superstition. 

1 1.  Specimen  of  a  religious  higot. — [Said  of  a  nar- 
row-minded relicjionist.!  Mr.  T.  sees  reliction,  not  as 
a  sphere,  but  as  a  line ;  and  it  is  the  identical  line  in 
which  he  is  moving.  He  is  like  an  African  buffalo — 
sees  right  forward,  but  nothing  on  the  right  hand  or 
the  left.  He  would  not  perceive  a  legfion  of  antrels 
or  of  devils  at  the  distance  of  ten  yards,  on  the  one 
side  or  the  other. 

12.  Corcardice  of  bigoted  errorists. — When  the 
majestic  form  of  Ti'uth  approaches,  it  is  easier  for  a 
disingenuous  mind  to  start  aside  into  a  thicket  till 
she  is  past,  and  then  reappearing,  say,  "  It  was  not 
Truth,"  than  to  meet  her,  and  bow,  and  obey. 

13.  The  lines  of  revelation  and  true  philosophy 
coalesce  and  hecome  identical. — Theology  and  philos- 
ophy have  been  entirely  separated  by  most  divines, 
and  some  have  attempted  an  awkward  association  of 
them;  they  joined  them  without  producing  unity  or 
union.  All  the  emanations  of  both  ought  to  convei-ge 
to  one  focus  ;  and  thence,  combined  and  identified, 
dart  forward,  a  living  beam  of  light,  in  infinitum. 

14.  Metaphors  of  Scripture  should  not  he  forced  to 
an  undue  application. — Tt  is  degrading  to  spiritual 


DOCTRINES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  115 

ideas  to  lie  extensively  and  systematically  transmuted, 
I  might  say  cooked,  into  sensual  ones.  The  analogy 
between  meaner  things  and  dignified  ones  should 
never  be  pursued  further  than  one  or  two  points  of 
necessary  illustration  ;  for  if  it  is  traced  to  every  cir- 
cumstance in  which  a  resemblance  can  be  found  or 
fancied,  the  meaner  thing  no  longer  serves  the  hum- 
ble and  useful  pui'pose  of  merely  illustrating  some 
qualities  of  the  great  one,  but  becomes  formally  its 
representative  and  equal.  By  their  being  made  to 
touch  at  all  points,  the  meaner  is  constituted  a  scale 
to  measure  and  to  limit  the  magnitude  of  the  superior, 
and  thus  the  importance  of  the  one  shrinks  to  the  in- 
significance of  the  other. 

15.  The  cliaracter  and  offices  of  Christ  better  dis- 
tinguishcd  hy  the  language  of  Scrij)ture  than  of  creeds. 
— As  to  my  opinion  respecting  the  person  of  Christ, 
I  deem  it  the  wisest  rule  to  use  jfreciselij  the  langvagc 
of  scripture,  without  charging  myself  with  a  definite, 
a  sort  of  mathematical  hypothesis,  and  the  intermina- 
ble perplexities  of  explication  and  infei-ence. 

IC.  Want  of  discrimination  in  distinguishing  the 
righteous  and  the  wicked. — Have  you  not  had  a  sense 
of  extreme  absurdity,  in  hearing  or  reading  some  re- 
ligious teachers,  representing  two  classes  as  complete 
antipodes,  without  regard  to  discrimination  and  de- 
grees ?  Let  a  carnal,  unconverted  man  be  described, 
and  the  character  consists  of  the  whole  account  of 
human  depravity.  But  let  them  describe  a  convert- 
ed man,  and  there  is  just  the  entire  reverse.  But 
where  is  the  man  that  will  dare  to  present  himself  as 
this  complete  reverse  1 

17.  Deep  sense  of  unworthiness  proper  to  the  most 
moral — even  the  young. — That  such  a  mind  should 
feel  any  violent  sense  of  guilt,  or  overwhelming  ter- 
rors of  Divine  justice,  it  would  be  out  of  all  consis- 
tency to  expect  or  require.  But  I  am  anxious  that 
he  should  feel  an  impressive  general  conviction  of  a 


116 


FOSTER  S    THOUGHTS. 


depraved  and  unworthy  nature,  and  the  necessity  of 
pardon  and  reconciliation  through  Jesus  Christ;  that 
he  should  especially  be  sensible  of  the  evil  and  guilt 
of  a  deficient  love  and  devotion  to  God,  and  of  the 
indisposition  to  a23ply  the  thoughts,  desires,  and  ear- 
nest efforts,  to  the  grand  business  of  life.  This  order 
of  conviction  and  solicitude  I  wish  and  pray  that  he 
may  feel,  and  then,  after  a  life  so  nearly  blameless, 
in  a  p7-actical  \iew,I  should  be  greatly  consoled  and 
assured. 

18.  Salvation  b>/  foAth  in  Jesus  CJirist. — Repose 
your  soul,  with  all  its  interests  and  hopes,  on  that 
perfect  work  of  our  Lord  and  Savior.  It  is  a  com- 
plete salvation  for  you  to  rely  upon,  independent  of 
any  virtues,  and  in  tiiumph  over  conscious  and  la- 
mented sins  in  your  own  nature.  It  is  expressly  as 
being  unable  to  attain  virtues  and  grace  to  satisfy  the 
Divine  law  and  an  enlightened  conscience — exactly 
AS  being  conscious  of  defect  and  sin  which  you  con- 
demn and  deplore — it  is  in  this  very  character  and 
condition  that  you  are  to  embrace  the  salvation  ac- 
complished through  the  sufTeiings  of  the  Redeemer. 
And  it  comes  to  you  in  a  Divine  fullness  which  par- 
dons all  sin,  and  needs  no  virtues  of  your  own  for 
your  acceptance  before  the  righteous  Judge.  It  sets 
aside  at  once  all  that  you  can  attain,  and  all  that  you 
condemn,  in  yourself  and  of  your  own,  and  gives  you 
a  blessed  acquittance  on  another  ground.  It  makes  no 
stipulation  or  previous  condition  for  some  certain  es- 
tablished degrees  of  one  virtuous  principle  or  another 
in  your  soul.  It  tells  you  that  all  the  degrees  of  all 
the  virtues  are  equally  incompetent  and  foreign  to 
the  great  purpose,  and  invites  and  conjures  you  to 
cast  yourself  wholly  on  the  all-sufficiency  of  Him  in 
whom  all  fullness  of  merit  and  righteousness  dwells. 
It  avowedly  takes  you  as  defective  and  sinful,  not- 
withstanding all  that  you  labor  and  strive,  and  says, 
•'  Behold  the   Lamb  of  God  that  taketh  away  sin.'' 


DOCTRINES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  117 

How  constantly,  tln'ough  the  New  Testament,  is  it 
represented  that  this  committing  of  the  soul  to  the 
merciful  and  exalted  Savior,  just  as  it  is,  with  all  its 
conscions  weakness,  incapacity,  and  self-condemna- 
tion, is  the  grand  point  of  safety  and  immortal  hope, 
is  the  escape  from  the  oppression  of  guilt  and  the 
fear  of  death  ! 

19.  Uniform  use  of  peculiar  ^?7«r«se*  in  the  pulpit 
not  desiraMe. — Such  common  words  as  have  acquired 
an  affected  cast  in  theological  use,  might  give  place 
to  the  other  common  words  which  expi'ess  the  ideas 
in  a  plain  and  unaffected  manner;  and  the  phrases 
formed  of  common  words  uncouthly  combined  may 
he  dismissed.  Many  peculiar  and  antique  words 
might  be  exchanged  for  other  single  words,  of  equiv- 
alent signification,  and  in  general  use.  And  the  small 
number  of  peculiar  terms  acknowledged  and  estab- 
lished as  of  permanent  use  and  necessity,  might,  even 
separately  from  the  consideration  of  modifying  the 
diction,  be  often,  with  advantage  to  the  explicit  dec- 
laration and  clear  comprehension  of  Christian  ti'uth, 
made  to  give  place  to  a  fuller  expression,  in  a  num- 
ber of  common  words,  of  those  ideas  of  which  these 
peculiar  terms  are  the  single  signs. 

20.  Existence  and  ministry  of  angels. — No  fact  be- 
yond the  limits  of  our  world  is  more  prominent  in 
the  declarations  of  the  Bible,  than  the  existence  of  a 
high  order  of  intelligences  denominated  angels.  The 
equivocal  and  the  lower  application  of  the  term  in  a 
number  of  instances  can  deduct  nothing  from  the 
palpable  evidence  of  the  fact.  But  who  and  what 
aie  angels  1  Tlie  effect  of  an  assemblage  of  pas- 
sages relating  to  them  in  the  Bible,  the  desciiptions, 
narratives,  and  allusions,  would  seem  to  give  an  idea 
widely  different  from  that  of  stationary  residents  in 
particular  parts  of  the  creation — an  idea,  rather,  of 
pei-petual  ministerial  agency,  in  a  diversified  distri- 
bution of  appointments,  many  of  them  occasional  and 


(¥=»-= 


118  Foster's  thoughts. 

temporary,  in  the  fulfilment  of  which  numbers  of 
them  visit  or  sojourn  in  this  world. 

21.  Rank  and  sphere  of  angels. — If  we  tal^e  our 
conjecture  of  the  intellectual  magnitude,  an.l  the 
probable  excursive  powers  of  the  highest  of  the 
created  beings,  from  the  consideration  of  the  infinite 
power  and  beneficence  of  the  Creator,  and  of  what 
it  is  rationally  probable  that  such  a  Being  would 
create  in  the  nature  of  mental  existences,  to  admire, 
adore,  and  serve  him,  we  shall  be  warranted  to  im- 
agine beings  to  whom  it  may  be  possible  exultingly 
to  leave  sunbeams  far  behind  them  in  the  rapidity 
of  their  career,  from  systems  to  systems  still  beyond. 
And  if  we  add  to  the  account  the  equal  probability 
of  a  pei-petual  augmentation  of  their  powers  in  a  ratio 
correspondent  to  a  magnitude  already  so  stupendous, 
and  crown  it  with  the  idea  of  an  indefatigable  exer- 
tion of  those  poAvers  in  discovery  and  contemplation 
of  the  Creator's  manifestations  through  everlasting 
ages — there  will  then  be  required  a  universe  to  which 
all  that  the  telescope  has  descried  is  but  as  an  atom  ; 
a  universe  of  which  it  shall  not  be  within  the  possi- 
bilities of  any  intelligence  less  than  the  Infinite  to 
know — 

"Where  rears  the  terminating  pillar  high 
Its  extramundane  bead." 

22.  Kingdo77i  of  God  on  earth  and  in  heaven  con- 
nected by  vital  sympathies. — The  kingdom  of  God 
on  earth  is  in  real  and  vital  connexion  with  his  king- 
dom in  heaven  !  So  that  there  is — shall  we  say  it — 
a  sympathy  between  them ;  so  that  where  a  saint  is 
smitten  on  earth,  there  is,  as  it  were,  a  sensation  con- 
veyed to  the  upper  sky.  The  Lord  of  saints  and  an- 
gels says,  "  Saul,  why  persecutest  thou  me  V  a  strange 
expression  of  the  union  of  the  king  of  glory,  and  his 
humble  mortal  friends. 

23.  Inefficiency  of  mere  means. — These  means  are 
indeed  of  divine  appointment,  and  to  a  certain  extent 


DOCTRINES    OP    CHRISTIANITY.  119 

are  accompanied  by  a  special  divine  agency.  But 
how  far  this  agency  accompanies  them  is  seen  in  the 
measure  of  thei"  success.  Whei-e  that  stands  ar- 
I'ested,  the  fact  itself  is  the  proof  that  the  superior 
operation  does  not  go  further  with  these  means. 
There  it  stops,  and  leaves  them  to  accomplish,  if  tliey 
can,  what  remains.  And  oh,  what  remains  ?  If  the 
general  transformation  of  mankind  into  such  persons 
as  could  be  justly  deemed  true  disciples  of  Christ, 
were  regarded  as  the  object  of  his  religion,  how 
mysteriously  small  a  part  of  that  object  has  this  di- 
vine agency  ever  yet  been  exerted  to  accomplish  ! 
And  then,  the  awful  and  immense  remainder  evinces 
the  inexpressible  imbecility  of  the  means,  when  left 

to  be  a])plied  as  a  mere  human  administration 

Probably  each  religious  teacher  can  recollect,  besides 
his  general  exjierience,  very  particular  instances,  in 
which  he  has  set  himself  to  exert  the  utmost  force 
of  his  mind,  in  reasoning,  illustration,  and  serious  ap- 
peal, to  impress  some  one  important  idea,  on  some 
one  class  of  persons  to  whom  it  was  most  specifically 
applicable ;  and  has  perceived  the  plainest  indica- 
tions, both  at  the  instant  and  immediately  after,  that 
it  was  an  attempt  of  the  same  kind  as  that  of  demol- 
ishing a  tower  by  attacking  it  with  pebbles.  Nor  do 
I  need  to  observe  how  generally,  if  a  momentary  im- 
pression is  made,  it  is  forgotten  the  following  hour. 

24.  Melancholy  musings  in  the  direction  of  fatal- 
ism.— One  seems  to  see  all  hoic  it  is  to  he,  as  to  one's 
friends,  as  to  one's  self.  Unfortunate  habits  have 
been  formed,  and  threaten  to  reign  till  death.  In- 
struction, trutli,  just  reach  the  heart  to  fall  ineffica- 
cious. One  augurs  the  sequel  from  the  first  part; 
as  in  a  commonplace  novel,  one  can  see  from  the 
first  chapter  what  is  to  happen  forward  to  the  close. 

25.  Ill  its  furtif  cation  of  depraved  dispositions  and 
circumstances,  the  soul  dejics  any  assault  of  mere  hu- 
■in  in  power  — Surely  the  human  mind,  quenched  as 


120  FOSTEU'S    THOUGHTS. 

it  is  in  a  body,  with  all  that  body's  sensations,  is  not 
a  thing  to  be  worked  upon  by  the  presentation  of 
truth  !  How  little,  in  general,  it  thinks  or  cares  about 
the  whole  displayed  firmament  of  truth,  with  all  its 
constellations.  No  !  the  case  of  mankind  is  desper- 
ate, unless  a  continual  miracle  interpose. 

26.  Vain  confidence  in  human  agency. — If  what  they 
deem  the  cause  of  truth  and  justice  advances  with  a 
splendid  front  of  distinguished  names  of  legislators, 
or  patiiots,  or  military  heroes,  it  must  then  and  must 
therefore  triumph  ;  nothing  can  withstand  such  tal- 
ents, accompanied  by  the  zeal  of  so  many  faithful 
adherents.  If  these  shining  insects  of  fame  are 
crushed,  or  sink  into  the  despicable  reptiles  of  cor- 
ruption, alas,  then,  for  the  cause  of  truth  and  justice  ! 

27.  Effects  disjn-oportionate  to  any  knoum  order 
of  means,  may  he  necessary  to  the  universal  triumph  oj 
the  gospel. — Perhaps  it  is  not  improbable,  that  the 
grand  moral  improvements  of  the  future  age  may  be 
accomplished  in  a  manner  that  shall  leave  nothing  to 
man  but  humility  and  grateful  adoration.  His  pnde 
so  obstinately  ascribes  to  himself  whatever  good  is 
effected  on  the  globe,  that  perhaps  the  Deity  will 
evince  his  own  interposition,  by  events  as  evidently 
independent  of  human  power  as  the  rising  of  the  sun. 
It  may  be  that  some  of  them  may  take  place  in  a 
manner  but  little  connected  even  with  human  opera- 
tion. Or  if  the  activity  of  men  shall  be  employed  as 
the  means  of  jjroducing  all  of  them,  there  will  proba- 
bly be  as  palpable  a  disproportion  between  the  instru- 
ments and  the  events,  as  there  was  between  the  rod 
of  Moses  and  the  stupendous  phenomena  which  fol- 
lowed its  beino:  stretched  forth. 

28.  Triumph  of  the  truth  through  the  gospel. — I 
have  the  most  confident  faith  that  the  empire  of  truth, 
advancing  under  a  far  mightier  agency  than  mere 
philosojihic  inquiiy,  is  appointed  to  irradiate  the  lat- 
ter ages  of  a  dark  and  troubled  world  ;   and,  on  the 


DOCTRINES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  121 

Strength  of  prophetic  intimations,  I  anticipate  its 
coming  sooner,  by  at  least  a  thousand  centuries,  than 
a  discijile  of  that  pliilosophy  which  rejects  revelation, 
as  the  first  proud  step  toward  the  improvement  of 
the  world,  is  warranted,  by  a  view  of  the  past  and 
present  state  of  mankind,  to  predict. 

29.  Inadequate  view  of  the  social  application  of 
Christianitij. — Christianity  is  to  be  honored  some- 
what after  the  same  manner  as  the  Lama  of  Thibet. 
It  is  to  stay  in  its  temple,  to  have  the  proprieties  of 
homage  duly  preserved  within  its  precincts,  but  to  be 
exempted  (in  reverence  of  its  sanctity)  from  all  cog- 
nizance of  great  public  affairs,  even  in  the  points 
where  they  most  interfere  with  or  involve  its  inter- 
ests. It  could  show,  perhaps,  in  what  manner  the 
administration  of  those  affairs  injures  these  interests  ; 
but  it  would  degrade  its  sacred  character  by  talking 
of  any  such  matter.  But  Christianity  must  have 
leave  to  decline  the  sinister  compliment  of  such  pre- 
tended anxiety  to  preserve  it  immaculate.  As  to  its 
sacred  character,  it  can  venture  that,  on  the  strength 
of  its  intrinsic  quality  and  of  its  own  guardianship, 
while,  regardless  of  the  limits  thus  attempted  in  mock 
reverence  to  be  prescribed,  it  steps  in  a  censorial 
capacity  on  what  will  be  called  a  political  ground, 
so  far  as  to  take  account  of  what  concern  has  been 
shown,  or  what  means  have  been  left  disposable,  for 
opeiations  to  promote  the  grand. essentials  of  human 
welfare,  by  that  public  system  which  has  grasped  and 
expended  the  strength  of  the  community. 

30.  Amenabiiitjj  of  statesmen. — So  long  as  men  are 
pressing  as  urgently  into  the  avenues  of  place  and 
power,  as  ever  the  genteel  rabl)le  of  the  metropolis 
have  pushed  and  ciowded  into  the  playhouse  to  see 
the  new  actor,  and  so  long  as  a  most  violent  conflict 
is  maintained  between  those  who  are  in  power  and 
those  who  want  to  supplant  them,  we  think  statesmen 
form  by  eminence  the  classof  persons  to  whose  char- 

11 


122  Foster's  thoughts. 

acters  both  the  contemporary  examiner  and  the  his- 
torian are  not  only  authorized,  but  in  duty  bound,  to 
administer  justice  in  its  utmost  rigor,  without  one  par- 
ticle of  extenuation.  .  .  .  They  have  stronger  induce- 
ments, arising  from  their  situation,  than  other  men, 
to  be  solicitous  for  the  rectitude  of  their  conduct; 
their  station  has  the  utmost  advantage  for  command- 
ing the  assistance  of  whatever  illumination  a  country 
contains;  they  see,  on  the  large  scale,  the  effect  of 
all  the  grand  principles  of  action;  they  make  laws 
for  the  rest  of  mankind,  and  they  direct  the  execu- 
tion of  justice.  If  the  eternal  laws  of  morality  are 
to  be  applied  with  a  soft  and  lenient  hand  in  the  trial 
and  judgment  of  such  an  order  of  men,  it  will  not  be 
worth  while  to  apply  them  at  all  to  the  subordinate 
classes  of  mankind;  as  a  morality  that  exacts  but  lit- 
tle, where  the  means  and  the  responsibility  are  the 
greatest,  would  betray  itself  to  contempt  by  pre- 
tending to  sit  in  solemn  judgment  on  the  humbler 
subjects  of  its  authority.  The  laws  of  morality 
should  operate,  like  those  of  Nature,  in  the  most 
palpable  manner  on  the  largest  substances. 

31.  Tendency  to  reform. — At  all  events,  it  is  inex- 
pressibly gratifying,  on  the  gi'ound  of  religion,  phil- 
anthropy, and  all  views  of  improvement,  to  observe 
the  prominent  characteristic  of  our  times  ;  a  mohilitij, 
a  tendency  to  alteration,  a  shaking,  and  cracking, 
and  breaking  up  of  the  old  condition  of  notions  and 
things;  an  exploding  of  the  pnnciple,  that  things  are 
to  be  maintained  because  they  are  ancient  and  estab- 
lished. Even  that  venerable  humbug  called  "our 
admirable  constitution''  has  suffered  wofnl  assault  and 
battery  by  this  recent  transaction.  This  thing,  the 
"  constitution,"  has  been  commonly  regarded,  and 
talked,  and  written  of  (and  was  so  talked  of  by  the 
opposition  in  the  late  debates),  as  if  it  were  some- 
thing almost  of  divine  origin,  as  if  it  had  been  deliv- 
ered like  the  law  from  the  mount,  as  a  thing  pei'fect, 


DOCTRINES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  123 

permanent,  sacretl,  and  inviolable.  But  now  we 
have  it  practically  shown,  that  one  of  its  comers  may 
be  demolished _  without  ceremony  (Holy  Temple 
though  it  has  been  accounted),  when  the  benefit  of 
the  community  requires  an  innovation  ;  and  there- 
fore so  may  any  other  corner  or  portion  of  it,  when 
the  same  cause  shall  demand. 

32.  The  elevation  of  tJie  race  possible  through  wise 
institutioJis  and  statesmen. — Every  day  struck  with 
the  wretched  and  barbarous  appearance,  and  the 
coarse  manners  of  the  populace.  (This  was,  I  be- 
lieve, in  Lancashire.)  How  most  astonishing  that 
the  Creator  should  have  placed  so  many  millions  of 
the  creatures  he  has  endowed  with  noble  faculties 
(or  the  seeds  of  them),  in  situations  where  these  fac- 
ulties and  the  whole  being  are  inevitably  debased  ! 
Wonder  again  what  really  could  be  done  by  political 
institutions  managed  by  a  Bonaparte  in  moi'als.  I 
can  not,  will  not,  believe  that  all  must  necessarily 
be  thus. 

33.  Progressive  amelioration  of  the  condition  of  the 
race  through  the  ajpinlications of  Christianity. — Have 
been  a  thousand  times  struck,  and  very  forcibly  this 
morning,  with  the  miserable,  degraded,  and  almost 
revolting  appearance,  of  the  visages,  both  in  features 
and  expression,  of  the  lowest  rank  of  the  poor,  es- 
pecially when  old.  Oh,  how  little  is  made  of  the  hu- 
man species  in  dignity,  refinement,  knowledge,  and 
happiness,  in  comparison  with  what  they  might  be- 
come, under  the  influence  of  good  institutions — of 
education — of  religion,  and  a  state  of  society  which 
should  easily  secure  a  competence  without  so  much 
labor ! 

34.  Timid  conservatism . — I  have  heard  a  good  ma- 
ny of  them  talk  of  the  subject ;  and  what  they  say  is, 
that  the  "  Review"  Jare*  nothing;  that  its  highest 
ambition  seems  to  be  to  do  no  harm  ;  that  it  takes  the 
style  of  a  puritan  divine  in  some  instances  where  that 


124  Foster's  thoughts. 

of  Voltaire  would  be  better;  that  it  is  too  anxious  to 
preserve  a  quiet  impunity  under  the  wings  of  ortho- 
doxy and  loyalty ;  that  it  is  like  a  dog  that  has  been 
whipped,  and  therefore  but  just  ventures  to  growl, 
and  then  runs  away. 

35.  Jurisdiction  of  civil  laio  may  he  restricted  hy 
conscience. — An  opponent  maintained  tljat  I  ought  to 
contribute  to  the  execution  of  every  law  of  the  state 
I  live  in,  even  though  I  disajiprove  some  of  those 
laws  in  my  piivate  judgment.  Denied.  How  can 
such  obligation  come  1  It  is  confessed,  in  the  first 
instance,  that  in  general  my  own  judgment  and  con- 
science form  the  supreme  law.  Then,  if  o«e  man  as- 
sumes to  interfere  with  the  dictates  of  my  own  mind, 
and  enjoins  me  a  course  of  action  opposite  to  my  con- 
victioTis,  I  spurn  the  assumption.  But  so  I  do  like- 
wise if  ttoo  men  thus  dictate  in  opposition  to  my  moral 
sense.  1?  three  men  do  this,  I  do  still  the  same.  If 
five  hundred,  if  a  thousand,  if  ten  thousand,  I  still  do 
the  same,  and  deem  that  duty  binds  me  to  do  so.  I 
ask  these,  "  What  is  this  thing  you  call  a  state  ? 
what  is  that  moral  authority  assumed  by  it  over  my 
conscience,  if  it  merely  consists  of  these  same  men 
whom  individually,  and  in  the  accumulation  of  an 
indefinite  number,  I  have  already  refused  to  obey  ?" 

36.  Individual  anticipating  and  embracing  social 
reform. — The  mind  of  a  reflective  man  ought,  in  re- 
spect of  changes,  to  be  beforehand  with  the  world — 
to  have  first  achieved  each  important  reform  within 
itself,  and  to  be  able  to  say  to  other  men,  *'  Follow 
me!" 

37.  Ceremonial  of  ordination  liable  to  be  unduly 
rtiagnified  among  dissenters. — In  saying  all  this,  I 
beg  you  not  to  take  me  as  if  I  were  making  any  very 
grave  matter  of  the  thing — as  if  I  fancied  this  little 
rag  of  \-\\evaYc\\Y  infected  with  the  plague,  and  capable 
of  infusing  some  mighty  mischief  into  our  religious 
constitution.     I  merely  think  it  would  better  comport 


DOCTRIXns    OF    CHUISTIANITY.  125 

with  good  sense,  and  with  rclitjious  simplicity  as  the 
dissenters' profession,  to  abandon  such  a  ceremonial. 
38.  Church  independence,  distinguished  from  nation- 
al establishments. — The  dissenters'  system  (as  far  as 
they  can  have  anything  that  can  be  so  named)  is  sim- 
ply to  teach  and  preach  religion  to  such  as  choose 
to  be  taught,  forming  voluntary  societies,  and  in  all 
ways  and  senses  supporting  themselves,  in  point  of 
expenses  and  everything  else.  ...  It  is  the  very  man- 
ner in  which  Christianity  was  originally  propagated 
in  the  world.  How  else  should  or  can  it  be  propa- 
gated ?  It  is  an  immensely  different  thing  to  have  a 
secular  establishment,  shaped,  richly  endowed,  and 
supported  by  the  state — a  profane  and  profligate  king 
acknowledged  as  head  of  this  church,  a  power  in  the 
government  (often  a  most  irreligious  set  of  men)  to 
decree  the  doctrines  and  observances  of  religion — a 
set  of  wealthly  and  lordly  archbishops  and  bishops — 
the  institution — constantly  made  an  engine  of  state 
— furnished  with  a  clergy  to  whom  personal  religion 
is  no  prerequisite,  and  m;iny  of  them  signing  articles 
wliich  they  do  not  believe — constituted  in  a  way  to 
produce  ambition,  sycophancy  to  power,  and  arro- 
gance toward  the  people — to  say  not  a  word  oT  the 
vast  and  horrid  history  of  persecution,  the  principle 
of  which  is  inherent  in  such  an  invention,  and  which 
has  made  the  hierarchy  about  the  blackest  spectacle 
in  the  retrospect  of  the  Christian  era. 

39.  Mai  organization  ofnational  establishments  evin- 
ced by  failure  to  accomplish  their  proposed  ends. — If 
the  practical  working  of  an  institution  be  generally, 
predominantly,  through  successive  ages  and  all  the 
change  of  times  and  circumstances,  renegade  from 
the  primary  intention,  this  would  seem  to  betray  that 
there  must  be,  in  the  very  construction  itself  essen- 
tially, a  strong  pi-opensity  and  aptitude  to  corruption  ; 
that  a  good  design  has  been  committed  to  the  action 
of  a  wrong  machinery  for  making  it  effective;  that 
11* 


126  poster's  thoughts. 

the  inslrument  intended  for  the  use  of  a  good  spirit, 
is  found  commodiously  fitted  to  the  hand  of  a  darker 
acrent. 

I  am  not,  you  will  observe,  expressing  any  opinion 
on  the  abstract  question  of  the  necessity  or  possible 
advantage  of  a  religious  establishment,  but  comment- 
ing on  the  actual  church  establishment  nf  this  coun- 
try. Now,  then,  I  would  say  to  you,  with  deference, 
take  an  impartial  view  of  the  English  church,  through 
a  duration  of  nearly  two  centuiies,  and  at  the  present 
time.  You  well  know  that,  with  all  its  amplitude  of 
powers  and  means — its  many  thousands  of  consecra- 
ted teachers,  of  all  degrees — its  occupancy  of  the 
whole  country — its  prescriptive  hold  on  the  people's 
veneration — its  learning,  its  emoluments,  and  its  in- 
timate connexion  with  all  that  was  powei'ful  in  the 
state — it  did,  through  successive  generations,  leave 
the  bulk  of  the  population,  for  whose  spiritual  bene- 
fit it  was  appointed,  in  the  pi'ofoundest  ignorance  of 
what  1J0U  consider  as  the  only  genuine  Christianity. 

40.  Adequate  reformation  of  a  national  church  es 
tahlishmcnt  impossible. — As  an  economical  thing,  s 
trade  and  money  concern,  it  may  be  plentifully  mend- 
ed if  the  axe  and  saw,  and  carpenter's  rule,  be  reso- 
lutely applied  (which  I  do  not  expect) ;  hut  as  an  eccle- 
siastical institution,  an  institution  for  religion,  it  is  not 
worth  reforming;  indeed,  can  not  be  reformed.  Think 
of  making  the  clergy — such  a  clergy  as  the  refomi- 
project  declares  them  to  be — think  of  making  them 
pious,  zealous,  spiiitual,  apostolic,  by  act  of  parlia- 
ment !  There  is,  for  example,  the  scandalous  amount 
of  non-residence  ;  this  is  to  be  corrected  with  a  strong 
hand  ;  the  clergy  shall  be  compelled  to  reside  :  what 
clergy  shall  be  so  compelled  ?  why,  the  very  men 
whose  non-residence  pi'oved  they  do  not  care  about 
the  spiritual  welfare  of  the  people ;  but  only  force 
these  same  men,  by  a  law,  sadly  against  their  will, 
as  the  very  terms  imply,  and  then  they  will  instantly 


DOCTRINES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  127 

hecome  pions,  faitliful,  affectionate  pastors — an  un- 
speakable blessing  to  the  people  oj'evert/  jJarisJi !  They 
will  apply  themselves,  with  the  utmost  alacrity  and 
assiduity,  to  their  preaching,  praying,  visiting  the 
sick,  ^c,  at  the  very  time  that  they  are  gi'umbling 
and  cursing  at  not  being  any  longer  allowed  to  prom- 
enade about  Brighton  or  Cheltenham.  The  most  ri- 
diculous absurdity  comes  of  that  one  grand  corrup- 
tion of  Christianity — the  state  pretending  to  make 
religious  churches  and  Christian  teachers. 

41.  Certaiyity  of  the  prevalence  of  the  simpler  and 
true  order  of  Christianity. — And  dissent,  you  may 
be  sure,  we7Z  continue  to  extend,  in  whatever  propor- 
tion true  relin-ion  and  free-thinkinor  shall  do  so,  to 
the  ultimate  abolition  of  that  anti-Christian  nuisance, 
the  established  church. 

42.  Efficiency  of  independency . — I  have  heard  it 
alleged,  that  however  it  might  fare  with  the  people 
in  the  towns  and  the  districts,  thickly  inhabited,  the 
rural  tracts,  with  a  scanty  population,  would  be  left 
in  a  total  destitution  of  relisrious  advantaofes.  Did 
the  foretellers  of  this  consequence  ever  traverse  any 
considerable  part  of  Wales,  where  they  would  see  an 
almost  endless  succession  of  meeting-houses,  in  tracts 
where  a  few  humble-lookins:  habitations,  scattered 
over  a  wide  neisfhborhood,  grive  immediate  evidence 
of  a  thin  population  and  the  absence  of  wealth  ]  And, 
if  I  am  not  much  misinformed,  such  proofs  of  the  pro- 
ductive activity  of  the  "  dissenting  interest,"  as  it  is 
called,  have  begun  to  appear  in  scores,  or  rather  hun- 
dreds, of  the  thinly-inhabited  districts  of  England;  a 
representation  confirmed  by  the  frequent  complaints 
of  clergymen  in  such  localities,  that  their  pai'ishes  are 
becoming  deformed  by  such  spectacles — "nuisances," 
in  the  language  of  some  of  them  ;  "schism-shops"  is 
the  denomination  I  have  oftenest  heard.  The  means 
for  raisino;-  these  edifices  have  been  contrilmted  by 
the  liberality  of  dissenting  communities  at  a  distance. 


128  Foster's  thoughts, 

for  the  most  part,  from  the  places  themselves.  And, 
according  to  my  information,  the  religious  services, 
JTi  many  of  them,  arc  kept  up  gratuitously,  in  con- 
sideration of  tlic  poverty  of  the  rural  attendants,  by 
extra  labors  of  ministers  in  the  nearest  situations,  as- 
sisted by  zealous  and  intelligent  religious  laymen, 
possessing  and  cultivating  a  faculty  for  public  speak- 
ing- 

43.  Inefficiency  of  national  churcJi  estahlishments. 
• — Dissent,  as  argued  and  practised  by  the  whole 
school  of  our  most  venerated  teachers  and  examples, 
has  been  founded  on  the  plain  principle  that  making 
religion  a  part  of  the  state,  is  anti-Christian  in  theory 
and  noxiou's  in  practice.  With  consenting  voice  they 
would  have  denied  any  one  to  be  a  dissenter  who  did 
not  hold  this  doctrine,  and  desire,  in  obvious  consis- 
tency, the  abolition  of  all  secular  religious  establish- 
ments. Latterly,  all  this  seems  to  have  been  forgot- 
ten— very  much  from  the  want  of  instruction,  and 
consequent  want  of  thought,  about  the  real  nature 
and  reason  of  dissent.  But  I  am  of  the  old  school — 
at  the  same  time  not  caring  veiy  much  how  little  the 
people  understand  about  the  theory  of  the  matter, 
provided  religion  and  practical  dissent  be  making 
progress.  The  fundamental  principle  of  dissent  is, 
that  the  religion  of  Chiist  ought  to  be  left  to  make 
its  way  among  mankind  in  the  greatest  possible  sim- 
plicity, by  its  truth  and  excellence ;  and  through  the 
labors  of  sincere  and  pious  advocates,  under  the  pre- 
siding care  of  its  great  Author;  and  that  it  can  not, 
without  fatal  injury  to  that  pure  simplicity,  that  charac- 
ter of  being  a  "  kingdom  not  of  this  world,"  be  taken 
into  the  schemes  and  political  arrangements  of  mon- 
archs  and  statesmen,  and  implicated  inseparably  with 
all  the  secular  interests,  intrigues,  and  passions.  It 
is  self-evident  it  must  thus  become  a  sharer  in  state 
corruptions,  an  engine  of  state  acted  on,  and  in  its 
turn  acting  with,  every  bad  influence  belonging  so 


DOCTRINES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  129 

almost  universally  to  courts,  governments,  and  ambi- 
tious parli*!s  of  worldly  men.  It  might  beforehand 
be  pronounced  infallibly,  that  this  unhallowed  com- 
bination must  result  in  the  debasement  of  religion, 
and  in  mischief  to  the  best  interests  of  mankind.  But 
from  this  pi'esumption  a  priori,  turn  to  the  matter  of 
fact,  as  exhibited  through  the  long  course  of  the  Chris- 
tian era.  I  have  latterly  been  looking  a  little  into  ec- 
clesiastical history,  at  different  periods  ;  and  should, 
from  what  I  have  seen  there,  have  acquired,  had  it 
been  possible,  an  augmented  intensity  of  detestation 
of  hierarchies  and  secular  establishments  of  religion. 
There  is  the  whole  vast  and  direful  plague  of  the 
popish  hierarchij.  But  placing  that  out  of  view, 
look  at  our  own  protestant  estahlishment.  What  was 
its  spirit  and  influence  during  the  long  period  of  the 
sufferings  of  the  puritans  %  What  was  its  spirit  even 
in  the  time  of  Queen  Anne  %  Then  follow  it  down 
through  a  subsequent  century.  What  did  it  do  for 
the  p)eople  of  England  ?  There  was  one  wide,  settled 
Egyptian  darkness ;  the  blind  leading  the  blind,  all 
but  universal!  1/  ;  an  utter  estrangement  from  genuine 
Christianity ;  ten  thousand  Christian  ministers  mis- 
leading the  people  in  respect  to  religious  notions,  and 
a  vast  proportion  of  them  setting  them  a  bad  pi'acti- 
cal  example.  When  at  length  something  of  the  true 
light  began  to  dawn — when  Whitefield  and  Wesley 
came  forth — who  were  their  most  virulent  opposers, 
even  instigating  and  abetting  the  miserable  people  to 
riot,  fury,  and  violence,  against  them  ]  The  estab- 
lished clergy.  At  a  later  time,  who  were  the  most  con- 
stant systematic  opposers  of  an  improved  education  of 
the  common  people  ?  The  established  clergy.  Who 
frustrated,  so  lately.  Brougham's  national  plan  for 
this  object  ?  The  clergy,  who  insisted  that  they  should 
have  a  monopoly  of  the  power  in  its  management. 
Who  formed  the  main  mass  of  the  opposition  to  the 
Bible  Society  for  so  many  years  ?    Did  one  single  dis- 


130  Foster's  thoughts. 

stnter  so  act  1  No  ;  the  clergy.  Who,  lately,  did  all 
they  could,  by  open  opposition  or  low  intrigue,  to 
frustrate  the  valuable  project  for  education  in  our 
own  city  ?  The  clergy.  Who  were  the  most  gener- 
ally hostile  to  the  catholic  emancipation,  undeterred 
by  the  prospect  of  prolonged  tumult,  and  ultimate 
civil  war,  ravage,  and  desolation,  in  Ireland  ?  The 
clergy.  What  is,  at  this  very  hour,  the  most  fatal  and 
withering  blight  on  the  interests  and  hopes  of  the 
protestant  religion  in  that  country?  The  establisJied 
chtcrch. 

44.  Indictment  against  the  national  establishment. 
— Impossibility  of  its  reform. — This  slight  series 
of  notices  affords  but  a  faint  and  meager  hint  of  the 
large  and  awful  indictment  against  the  established 
church.  And  that  indictment  is,  by  the  whole  school 
of  the  able  advocates  oi  dissent  on  principle,  charged 
in  this  form,  namely  :  that  such  are  the  natural  effects 
of  a  secular  church  establishment — not  accidental  evils 
of  an  institution  fundamentally  good.  And  this  should, 
I  think,  be  as  evident  as  any  possible  instance  of 
cause  and  effect.  Ccmsider,  what  is  the  patronage  of 
the  church  %  For  one  large  portion,  it  is  in  the  hands 
of  the  state,  of  the  ministry — men  most  commonly  ig- 
norant and  careless  of  religion,  and  only  consulting 
secular  and  political  interests.  It  is  in  the  private 
hands  of  great  lords  and  great  squires  of  colleges  and 
corporations.  No  small  proportion  of  it  is  a  matter 
of  direct  traffic  in  the  market,  like  farms  or  any  other 
commodity.  So  many  thousand  pounds  for  a  "  cure 
of  souls  !"  Consider,  again,  that  young  men  (a  vast 
majority  of  those  who  enter  the  church)  enter  as  on 
a  profession  or  trade,  and  a  thing  which  places  them 
on  a  genteel  footing  in  society.  The  church  is  the 
grand  receptacle,  too,  for  secondary  branches  of  the 
upper  sort  of  families.  Many  latterly  are  from  the 
army  and  navy.  Consider,  that  personal  piety  is 
not,  nor  by  the  nature  of  the  institution  can  be,  any 


DOCTRINES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  131 

indispensable  prerequisite.  Who  or  what  is  there  to 
require  any  such  thing,  or  to  judge  of  any  such  thing  1 
The  candidate  passes  through  a  fetv  formahties,  and 
it  is  done.  And  if  the  parishioners  receive  a  man 
who  is  most  evidently  destitute  of  any  such  qualifica- 
tion— receive  him  as  their  instructor,  consoler,  and 
examj)le — they  have  no  remedy.  They  must  be  con- 
tent;  they  can  not  remove  him  ;  and  the  church,  and 
even  the  evangelical  clergy,  censure  them  if  they  pre- 
sume to  go  to  hear  instead  a  pious  and  sensible 
preacher  in  a  meeting-house  in  their  neighborhood. 
We  affirm,  then,  that  this  fearful  mass  and  vaiiety  of 
evil  consistently,  and  for  the  main  part  necessarily, 
result  from  the  very  nature  of  an  established  church  ; 
and  are  not  accidental  and  separable  ;  and  that  there- 
fore the  thing  is  radically  and  fundamentally  bad,  and 
pernicious  to  religion.  If  one  hears  talk  of  correct- 
ing it,  making  it  a  good  thing  by  "  reform" — one  in- 
stantly says,  " Hoiv  correct  it?  Can  you  make  kings, 
ministers  of  state,  lord  chancellors,  to  become  pious 
and  evangelical  men  ?  Can  you  convert  the  whole 
set  of  patrons — lords,  baronets,  squires,  corporations  1 
Can  you  work  such  a  miracle  in  Oxford  and  Cam- 
bridge, that  they  shall  fit  out  no  young  gents  for  the 
church,  but  such  as  give  proofs  of  personal  piety;  or 
make  the  bishops  such  overseers  that  they  shall  allow 
none  to  cjo  into  the  fold  but  such  as  bear  the  evident 
qualifications  for  the  shepherds  of  the  flock  ]  Can 
you  secure  that,  when  advowsons  are  advertised  for 
sale,  none  but  religious  men  shall  buy  or  bid  far 
them  1"  Even  if  all  this  were  not  essentially  and 
flagrantly  impossible — if  it  miglit  be  brought  about 
some  time — 1  would  say,  "  How  long,  meanwhile,  are 
the  people,  myriads  and  millions  of  them,  to  be  left 
to  be  misled  in  the  most  momentous  of  their  inter- 
ests by  multitudes  of  authorized  teachei-s,  who  teach 
them  not  the  gospel  ?  How  many  of  these  multi- 
tudes and  myriads  cac  we  contentedly  resign  to  live 


132  poster's  thoughts, 

and  die  under  the  delusion  that  a  little  middling-  mo- 
rality (honesty  chiefly),  with  the  aid  of  the  Christian- 
izing sprinkle  of  'water,  the  confiiTnation,  and  the 
talismanic  sacrament  at  last,  will  can-y  them  to  heav- 
en V  There  is,  besides,  something  strange  and  ra- 
ther ludicrous  in  the  notion  of  correcting  what  is  it- 
self appointed  to  be,  and  assumes  to  be,  the  grand 
corrector.  There  is  a  class  of  persons  highly  authoi"- 
ized,  ordained,  and  officially  appointed,  to  instruct, 
illuminate,  and  reform,  the  community;  the  commu- 
nity, wiser  than  their  teachers,  are  to  pity  them,  in- 
struct them,  get  them  refoi-med,  and  then  go  to  them 
for  "  instruction  and  correction  in  righteousness  !" 
A  curious  round-about  process,  even  if  it  were  prac- 
ticable. 

45.  Cavils  at  the  tardy  success  of  missions  in  In- 
dia.— Do  they  imagine  that  Mr.  Carey,  for  instance, 
landed  in  India  with  the  notion  that  all  who  came  to 
worship  the  Ganges,  or  to  burn  their  mothers  or  ex- 
pose their  children  on  its  banks,  one  season,  were  to 
come  there,  the  next,  to  be  baptized  ]  Or  that  the 
want  of  moonliorht  the  half  of  each  month  would  be 
supplied  by  the  light  of  Hindoo  temples,  set  on  fire 
over  the  heads  of  their  gods  by  the  I'ecent  worship- 
pers all  through  Hindostan  ? 

46.  Indiscriminate  eulogy  over  the  dead,  in  pre- 
scrihed  service. — It  is  obvious  how  powerful  the  de- 
praving influence  is  likely  to  be  on  other  men,  who 
have  not  the  information,  the  convictions,  or  the  re- 
sponsibility, implied  and  involved  in  the  sacred  pro- 
fession, and  who  are  perhaps  half-vicious  and  half- 
skeptical  already,  if  that  influence  is  so  sti'ong  as  to 
make  one  most  learned  Christian  divine,  in  a  work 
expected  and  intended  to  go  down  to  a  future  age, 
confidently  dismiss  to  those  abodes  of  the  blessed 
which  Christianity  only  assures  its  disciples,  the  per- 
son whom  he  has  just  confessed  (we  can  not  honest- 


DOCTRINES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  133 

ly  interpret  the  passage  in  any  other  sense)  to  be 
not  a  believer  in  the  truth  of  that  religion. 

47.  In  national  establishments,  subserviency  often 
preferred  to  talents  and  piety. — The  archbishop  could 
easily  tolerate  his  clergy  in  being  ignorant,  careless, 
and  profligate,  provided  they  punctiliously  obsei'ved 
all  the  prescribed  ceremonies ;  while  he  could  ap- 
plaud himself  for  directing  the  vengeance  of  the  star- 
chamber  against  the  most  learned,  pious,  and  zealous 
preachers,  that  conscientiously  declined  some  part 
of  the  ceremonial  conformity.  He  chose  rather  that 
the  people  should  not  be  instructed  in  religion  at  all, 
than  be  taught  it  by  even  the  most  excellent  minis- 
ters, who  could  not  acknowledge  a  particular  ges- 
ture, or  robe,  or  form  of  words,  as  an  essential  part 
of  it.  Is  the  established  church  infallible  while  its 
members  are  unable  to  agree  as  to  the  purport  of  its 
articles,  or  to  the  extent  of  the  obligation  under 
which  they  are  to  be  subscribed,  and  are  indefinitely 
divided  and  opposed  in  their  opinions,  forming  a  po- 
litical compact,  for  a  temporal  advantage,  of  religious 
parties  who  ai-e  respectively  schismatics  in  each  oth- 
er's estimation?  If  the  infallibility  of  such  a  church, 
or  indeed  of  any  church,  is  an  absurdity  too  gross  for 
even  this  man  to  advance,  where  is  the  sense  or  de- 
cency of  railing  against  sectaries  ?  If  the  chui'ch 
may  be  wrong,  the  sectaries,  or  some  of  them,  may 
be  right ;  the  authority  for  imputing  error  is  perfect- 
ly equal  on  either  side,  and  is  no  other  than  freedom 
of  individual  judgment,  a  freedom  evidently  not  to  be 
contravened  but  by  demonstrated  infallibity  or  the 
vilest  tyranny. 

48.  Rotnanism  characterized. — We  can  imagine  a 
protestant  falling  into  communication  with  a  man 
like  Fenelon — charmed  with  such  piety  and  intelli- 
gence— carried  by  this  feeling  back  into  the  popish 
cliurch  ;  no  comprehensive  view  taken  of  the  real 
character  and  operations  of  that  church  ;  no  account 

12 


134  Foster's  thoughts, 

taken  of  its  essential  connexion  with  secularity  and 
ambition — of  its  general  hostility  to  true  religion — 
of  the  prevailing  worthlessness  of  its  priesthood — 
of  its  wicked  assumptions,  maxims,  and  impostures 
— of  its  infernal  persecutions  ;  and  of  all  this  being 
the  natural  result  of  its  very  constitution. 

49.  Rojnanism  Jias  symholized  toith  lieatlienism. — 
As  the  hostility  of  heathenism,  in  the  direct  endeavors 
to  extirpate  the  Christian  religion,  became  evident- 
ly hopeless,  in  the  nations  within  the  Roman  empire, 
there  was  a  grand  change  of  the  policy  of  evil ;  and 
all  manner  of  repiobate  things,  heathenism  itself 
among  them,  rushed  as  by  general  conspiracy  into 
ti'eacherous  conjunction  with  Christianity,  retaining 
iheir  own  quality  under  the  sanction  of  its  name,  and 
by  a  rapid  process  reducing  it  to  surrender  almost 
everything  distinctive  of  it  but  that  dishonored 
name :  and  all  this  under  protection  of  the  "  gross 
darkness  covering  the  people." 

50.  In  Romanism  forms  have  superseded,  ike  spirit 
of  Christianity. — In  this  latency  of  the  sacred  au- 
thorities, withdrawn  from  all  communication  with  the 
human  understanding,  there  were  retained  still  many 
of  the  terms  and  names  belonging  to  religion.  They 
remained,  but  they  remained  only  such  as  they  could 
be  when  the  departing  spirit  of  that  religion  was 
leaving  them  void  of  their  import  and  solemnity,  and 
so  rendered  applicable  to  purposes  of  deception  and 
mischief.  They  were  as  holy  vessels,  in  which  the 
original  contents  might,  as  they  were  escaping,  be 
clandestinely  replaced  by  the  most  malignant  prep- 
arations. 

51.  Absurdity  of  pretended  hereditary  holiness. — 
In  some  instances,  an  assumption  of  superior  holiness 
has  been  made  upon  the  ground  of  belonging  to  a 
certain  division,  or  class,  of  mankind  ;  a  class  having 
its  distinction  in  the  circumstance  of  descent  and  na- 
tivity, or,  in  some  artificial   constitution  of  society 


DOCTRINES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  135 

Thus  the  ancient  Jews — in  virtue  merely  of  being' 
Jews.  Imagine  the  worst  Jew  comparing  himself 
with  Aristirles,  Phocion,  or  Socrates.  The  Bramins, 
in  virtue  of  a  pretended  pre-eminently  holy  descent; 
an  emanation  from  the  head  of  their  creating  god. 
In  popish  countries,  the  numerous  ecclesiastical  class. 
Something  of  this  even  in  protestant  England,  with- 
in a  period  not  altogether  gone  beyond  remembrance. 
In  these  instances  there  has  been  an  assumption  of 
holiness  independently  of  individual  personal  chai'ac- 
ter.  Think  of  such  things  as  here  recounted  !  What 
an  infamy  to  perverted  human  reason,  that  anything 
which  might  leave  the  individual  evidently  had,  in 
heart  and  life,  could  yet  be  taken  as  constituting  liiin 
the  reverse  of  had,  that  is,  hohj  !  An  absurdity  par- 
allel to  transubstantiation. 

52.  Formalism  resorted  to  to  ease  conscience. — A 
gi'eat  many  people  of  gayety,  rank,  and  fashion,  have 
occasionally  a  feeling  that  a  little  easy  quantity  of  re- 
ligion would  be  a  good  thing  ;  because  it  is  too  true, 
after  all,  that  we  can  not  be  staying  in  this  world  al- 
ways, and  when  one  goes  out  of  it,  why,  there  may 
be  some  hardish  matters  to  settle  in  the  other  place. 
The  prayer-book  of  a  Sunday  is  a  good  deal  to  be 
sure  toward  making  all  safe,  but  then  it  is  really  so 
tiresome;  for  penance  it  is  very  well,  but  to  say  one 
likes  it,  one  can  not  for  the  life  of  one.  If  there  were 
some  tolerable  religious  thing  that  one  could  read 
now  and  then  without  trouble,  and  think  it  about 
half  as  pleasant  as  a  game  of  cards,  it  would  be  com- 
fortable. 

53.  Mummery  and  mimicry  of  Romanism. — It 
would  be  the  farthest  thing  in  the  world  from  his 
thoughts  in  beholding  the  pageants,  the  tricks,  and 
giimaces,  which  would  meet  his  view  in  a  popish 
country,  that  these  were  exhibited  as  parts  and  ap- 
pointments of  Christianity.  Some  of  them  would 
appear  a  bad  imitation  of  the  opera,  and  others  an 


136  poster's  thoughts. 

humble  rival  of  the  puppet-show ;  the  only  wonder 
being  how  any  human  creatures  could  perform  such 
ridiculous  mummeries  and  antics  with  such  gi-avity 
of  face. 

54.  Interested  apologists  for  Romanism. — They 
will  have  it  that  popery,  that  infernal  pest,  is  now 
become  (if  it  ever  was  otherwise)  a  very  tolerably 
good  and  harmless  thing — no  intolerance  or  malignity 
about  it  now — liberalized  by  the  illuminated  age — 
the  popish  priests  the  worthiest,  most  amiable,  most 
useful  of  men.  Nay,  popery  is  just  as  good  as  any 
other  religion,  except  some  small  preference  for  our 
"  national  establishment."  Nothing  so  impertinent, 
nothing  so  much  to  be  deprecated  and  condemned, 
as  the  idle  and  mischievous  fanaticism  of  attempting 
to  convert  papists  to  protestantism. 

55.  Ro7nanis77i  tinchangeable. — Does  any  sensible 
man  honestly  doubt  whether  popery  be  intrinsically 
of  the  very  same  spirit  that  it  ever  was  1  Does  any 
mortal  doubt,  whether  if  it  were  ever  to  regain  an 
ascendency  of  power,  an  unconti'olled  dominion  in 
this  country,  it  would  reveal  the  fiend,  and  again 
revel  in  persecution  ?  When  did  ever  the  Romish 
church  disavow,  in  the  face  of  the  world,  any  of  its 
former  principles,  revoke  any  of  its  odious  decrees, 
or  even  censure  any  of  the  execrable  abominations, 
the  burnings,  the  toitures,  the  massacres,  the  im- 
postures, perpetrated  under  its  authority  ?- 

56.  Ascendency  of  Romanism  impossible. — What! 
popery  attain  to  an  over-awing  power,  in  spite  of  the 
rajjidly  augmenting  knowledge  and  intelligence  of 
the  people — the  almost  miraculous  diffusion  of  the 
Bible — the  spirit  of  license,  the  fearless  discussion 
of  all  subjects — the  extension  of  religion,  and  of  dis- 
sent from  all  hierarchies — with  the  settled  deep,  and 
general  prejudice  against  popery  into  the  bargain — 
and  the  wealth,  power,  rank,  and  influence,  nine 
tenth  parts  of  them,  on  the  side  of  protestantism  ] 


DUTIES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  137 


CHAPTER  VI. 

VIKWS   AND    ILLUSTRATIONS    OF   THE    OBLIGATIONS   AND 
DUTIES    OF    CHRISTIANITY. 

1.  Indifference  to  the  great  moral  conflict  waging 
in  the  tvorlJ,  unreasofiable. — Alas  for  the  state  of 
the  senses,  of  the  faculties  of  apprehension,  in  those 
minds  that  have  so  little  cos;nizance  of  a  most  fear- 
ful  reality  which  exists  on  every  side,  and  presses 
upon  them  !  How  strange  it  is  to  see  men  in  pos- 
session of  a  quick  and  vigilant  faculty  for  perceiv- 
ing everything  that  can  appi'oach  them  in  hostility, 
except  that  nearest,  deadliest,  and  mightiest  ene- 
my of  all,  moral  evil ! It  is  a  spectacle  of 

darker  character  than  that  which  would  have  been 
presented  by  opposed  amied  parties  or  legions,  gal- 
lantly maintaining  battle  on  the  yet  uncovei'ed  space 
of  ground,  while  the  universal  flood  was  rising. 

2.  Apathy  toward  the  formidahlc  sicay  of  moral 
evils. — The  friends  of  religion  seem  to  have  regarded 
those  great  maladies  of  the  moral  world,  the  delu- 
sions and  abominations  of  paganism,  with  a  sort  of 
submissive  awe,  as  if,  almost,  they  had  established  a 
prescriptive  right  to  the  place  they  have  held  so  long ; 
or  as  if  they  were  part  of  an  unchangeable,  uncon- 
trollable, order  of  Nature,  like  the  noxious  climates 
of  certain  portions  of  the  globe,  and  the  liableness  in 
others  to  the  terrors  of  earthquake. 

3.  Divine  sovereignty  falsely  pleaded  against  obli- 
gation.— If  that  Being  whose  power  is  almighty  has 
willed  to  peiTnit  on  earth  the  protracted  existence  in 

12* 


138  Foster's  thoughts. 

opposition  to  liim  of  this  enormous  evil,  why  are  we 
called  upon  to  vex  and  exhaust  ourselves  in  a  petty 
warfare  against  it? — why  any  more  than  to  attempt 
the  extinction  of  a  volcano?  If  it  were  his  will  that 
it  should  be  ovcrthiown,  we  should  soon,  without 
having  quitted  our  plnces  and  our  quiet,  in  any  offen- 
sive movement  toward  it,  feel  the  earthquake  of  its 
mighty  catastrophe;  and  if  such  is  7iot  his  will,  then 
we  should  be  plainly  putting  ourselves  in  the  predic- 
ament of  willing  something  which  he  does  not  will, 
and  making  exertions  which  must  infallibly  prove 
abortive. 

4.  Indolence  operating  to  repress  sense  of  ohliga- 
tions. — Feelings  of  indolence,  combined  with  ideas 
of  the  sovereignty  of  God,  will  form  a  state  of  mind 
prolific  of  such  reflections  as  these  :  "  Of  what  con- 
sequence can  be  the  trivial  efforts  of  such  insi"-nifi- 
cant  creatures,  as  co-operating  or  not  with  the  energy 
of  an  Almighty  Power?  What  signify,  in  a  great 
process  of  Nature,  some  few  raindrops  or  dewdrops 
the  more  or  the  less  ?  What  are  we,  to  be  talking, 
in  strains  of  idle  pomp,  of  converting  the  people  of 
half  a  world  ?  How  reduced  to  contempt,  how  van- 
ishing from  perception,  will  be  the  effects  of  all  our 
petty  toils,  when  mightier  powers  shall  come  into  ac- 
tion ;  as  the  footsteps  of  insects  and  birds  are  eff'aced 
and  lost  under  the  trample  of  elephants !  Were  it 
not  even  temerity  to  affect  to  take  the  course  where 
the  chariot  of  Omnipotence  is  to  drive  ;  as  if  we  would 
intrude  to  share  the  achievements  proper  to  a  God, 
or  fancy  that  something  magnificent  which  he  has  to 
do,  will  not  be  done  unless  we  are  there  ? 

5.  Delay  for  more  manifest  tokens  of  duty. — If 
there  be  still  some  cautious  Christians  who  are  re- 
luctant to  let  it  grow  obsolete,  we  might  ask  them 
whether  they  have  exactly  figured  in  their  minds  in 
what  manner  the  expected  grand  process  is  to  begin, 
or  what  appearances  they  could  accept  as  signs  that 


DUTIES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  139 

the  period  is  come  when  their  efforts  would  not  be 
like  a  vain  attempt  to  constrain  the  fulfilment  of  a 
Divine  purpose  before  its  appointed  time.  Are  there 
to  be  extraordinary  meteors,  significantly  passing  east- 
ward as  they  vanish  ?  Are  they  to  hear  that  the  tem- 
ples of  Seeva  are  sunk  suddenly  in  ruins  at  the  stroke 
of  thunder  ?  Or,  still  more  of  prodigy,  are  all  the 
chief  statesmen,  and  mercantile  men,  and  military 
men,  especially  concerned  in  the  affairs  of  the  East, 
to  become  with  one  accord  inspired  with  a  fervent 
zeal  for  the  Christianizing  of  Asia,  perhaps  impelled 
literally  to  a  spii'itual  crusade  against  Hindoo  idola- 
try ?  ^^^^y  should  they  not  accept  as  the  required 
signs,  the  circumstances  that  have  attended  thus  far 
this  Christian  entei"prise  in  India  ? 

6.  Doctri?ie  of  decrees  available  to  tlie  JiigJtest 
Christian  zeal  and  activity. — As  the  principle  of 
desti'uction  is  to  be  conveyed  through  the  means  of 
human  agents,  who  so  likely  to  be  employed,  they 
said,  as  we  that  are  already  on  fire  to  destroy  ?  Be- 
yond all  doubt,  it  is  exactly  here  that  we  have  our 
decreed  and  unalterable  allotment.  Exactly  here  it 
is,  that  our  will  and  the  Supreme  Will  coalesce  to  a 
purpose  which  defies  all  chance  and  all  created  power. 

7.  Shrinlcingfrom  the  responsibility  of  the  servants 
of  God. — The  great  contest  against  e\'il,  in  all  its 
modes  of  invasion  of  this  world  (but  our  reference 
is  chiefly  to  those  requiring  men's  resistance  in  the 
religious  capacity),  has  been  a  sei'\-ice  assigned  in 
every  possible  difference  of  circumstance  and  propor- 
tion; and  some  men's  shares  have  involved  a  violence 
of  exertion,  or  a  weight  of  suffering,  which  we  look 
upon  with  wonder  and  almost  with  terror.  We  shud- 
der to  think  of  mortals  like  ourselves  having  been 
brought  into  such  fearful  dilemmas  between  obedi- 
ence and  guilt.  We  shrink  from  placing  ourselves 
but  in  imagination  under  such  tests  of  fidelity  to  God 
and  a  good  cause.     The  painful  sympathy  with  those 


110  Foster's  thoughts. 

agents  and  sufferers  terminates  in  self-congratulation, 
that  their  allotment  of  duty  has  not  been  ours.  The 
tacit  sentiment  is,  I  am  very  glad  I  can  be  a  good 
man  on  less  severe  conditions There  is  delu- 
sion, if  we  are  permitted  to  escajie  from  the  habitual 
sense  of  being,  in  the  character  of  "the  servants  of 
God,  placed  under  the  duty  and  necessity  of  an  in- 
tense moral  warfare,  against  powers  of  evil  as  real 
and  palpable  as  ever  were  encountered  in  the  field 

of  battle Duties  to  be  performed  at  the  cost  of 

suffering  oppressive  and  unmitigated  toil,  pain,  want, 
reproach,  loss  of  liberty  and  even  of  life  itself,  duties 
imposing  such  a  trial  of  fidelity  as  confessers  and 
martyrs  have  sustained, 

8.  Inefficient  conception  of  spiritual  relations. — One 
has  fancied  sometimes  what  might  have  been  the  ef- 
fect, in  the  selected  instances,  if  the  case  had  been 
that  the  Sovereign  Creator  had  appointed  but  a  few 
men,  here  and  there  one,  to  an  immortal  existence, 
or  at  least  declared  it  only  with  respect  to  them.  One 
can  not  help  imagining  them  to  feel,  every  hour,  the 
impression  of  their  sublime  and  awful  predicament ! 
But  why — why  is  it  less  felt  a  sublime  and  solemn 
one,  because  the  rest  of  our  race  are  in  it  too  ?  Does 
not  each  as  a  perfectly  distinct  one,  stand  in  the  whole 
magnitude  of  the  concern,  and  the  responsibility,  and 
the  danger,  as  absolutely  if  there  were  no  other  one  % 
How  is  it  less  to  him  than  if  he  thus  stood  alone  ] 
Their  losing  the  happy  interest  of  eteniity  will  not 
be,  that  he  shall  not  have  lost  it  for  himself.  If  he 
shall  have  lost  it,  he  will  feel  that  they  have  not  lost 
it  for  him.  He  should  therefore  now  feel  that  upon 
him  is  concentrated,  even  individually  upon  him,  the 

entire  importance   of  this   chief  concern But 

what  a  depth  of  depravity  that  can  thus  receive  and 
swallow  up  such  masses  of  alarming  truth  and  fact 
and  then  be  as  if  all  this  were  nothing  !  How  sad, 
that  for  men  to  be  awfully  wrong,  and  to  be  admon- 


DUTIES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  141 

iisliecl,  and  to  be  aware  that  they  are  so,  should  leave 
them  still  at  ease  ! 

9.  Strange  apathy  of  the  7nasses  of  mankind  to  re- 
ligious truth. — Think  of  the  movements  of  the  heart, 
in  the  inhabitants  of  a  great  city,  during  a  single  day, 
— loving,  desiring,  hoping,  hating,  fearing,  regretting ! 
What  an  infinity  of  emotions  !  What  a  stupendous 
measure  of  active  vitality  !  Now  consider — to  these 
souls  are  presented  among  the  other  objects  of  inter- 
est, the  things  most  important,  desirable,  and  terrible 
in  the  universe;  these  things  ai'e  placed  before  them, 
and  pressed  on  them,  as  evidently  and  as  closely  and 
palpably,  as  reason  and  revelation  can.  We  know 
what  should  be  the  effect  of  these.  We  can  think 
what  it  should  be  on  any  individual  whom  the  eye 
happens  to  fix  upon,  known  or  a  stranger.  We  can 
look  onthepassing  train,  or  the  collected  crowd,  and 
think  what  it  should  be  on  each,  and  all.  What  a 
measure  therefore  this  would  be  of  a  good  spirit  in 
such  an  assemblage  !  What  is  the  effect  on  the  far 
greater  number  1  There  are  abundant  indications 
to  inform  you  ichat  it  is,  or  rather  what  it  is  not. 
And  if  the  case  be  so,  in  an  enlightened  and  Chris- 
tian community,  what  is  man  !  a  rational  and  immor- 
tal being,  involved  in  a  relation  the  most  perfect,  vital, 
and  inseparable,  with  all  that  is  most  important ;  the 
reality  of  that  relation  manifested  to  him,  enforced 
upon  him  ;  and  yet,  he  generally  is  as  insensible  to  it 
almost  as  a  statue  of  stone  is  to  the  objects  surround- 
ing it !  But  might  not  the  compassion  become 
mingled  with  indis^nation,  when  it  should  be  observed 
how  unlike  an  insensible  figure  he  is  toward  other 
objects  with  which  his  relation  is  separable  and  tran- 
sient 1  Nevertheless  the  great  interest  is  still  the 
same  ;  bears  all  the  importance  of  eternity  upon  it ; 
remains  as  that  sky  above  us,  with  its  luminaries  and 
its  solemn  and  infinite  depth,  whether  we  look  at  it 
or  not. 


142  poster's  thoughts. 

10.  Diversified  appeals  to  religious  e?notion  inef- 
fectual.— 1  fix  an  anient  gaze  on  Christianity,  as- 
suredly the  last  best  gift  of  Heaven  to  men;  on  Je- 
sus the  agent  and  example  of  infinite  love  ;  on  time 
as  it  passes  away ;  on  perfection  as  it  shines  beau- 
teous as  heaven,  and  alas  !  as  remote ;  on  my  own 
beloved  soul  which  I  have  injured,  and  on  the  un- 
happy multitude  of  souls  around  me  ;  and  I  ask  my- 
self, Why  do  not  my  passions  burn  %  Why  does  not 
zeal  arise  in  mighty  wrath,  to  lash  my  icy  habits  in 
pieces,  to  scourge  me  from  incl  lence  into  fervid  ex- 
ertion, and  to  trample  all  me  n  sentiments  in  the 
dust  ]  At  intei-vals  I  feel  devotion  and  benevolence 
and  a  surpassing  ardor;  but  when  they  are  turned 
toward  substantial  laborious  operations,  they  fly  and 
leave  me  spiritless  amid  the  iron  labor. 

11.  Special  j)rivileges  improved. — They  should  be 
regarded  as  cultivators  regard  the  important  weeks 
of  the  spiing;  as  mariners  regard  the  blowing  of  fa- 
vorable winds ;  as  merchants  seize  a  transient  and 
valuable  opportunity  of  gain  ;  as  men,  overlabored 
and  almost  overmatched  in  warfare,  regard  a  strong 
reinforcement  of  fresh  combatants. 

12.  Temporary  ehullition  of  benevolent  feeling. — 
The  course  of  feeling  resembles  a  listless  stream  of 
water,  which,  after  being  dashed  into  commotion,  by  a 
massive  substance  flung  into  it,  or  by  its  precipitation 
at  a  rapid,  relapses,  in  the  progress  of  a  few  fathoms 
and  a  few  moments,  into  its  former  sluggishness  of 
current. 

13.  Appeals  to  gratitude. — Consider!  "Why  am 
I  not,  at  this  hour,  overwhelmed  with  distress,  in- 
stead of  these  feelings  of  delight  ?  I  deserve  to  be 
so,  and  many  of  my  fellow-mortals  are  so,  who  prob- 
ably deserve  it  less.  Is  it  not  because  God  is  ex- 
ceedingly good  to  me  ]  To  constitute  this  state 
which  I  am  now  enjoying,  how  many  cai'es  and  gifts 
of  that  beneficent  Father — how  many  collective  rays 


DUTIES    OF    CHRISTIANITY,      •  143 

of  mercy  from  that  open  heaven  !  And  does  my 
heart  absorb  all,  and  reflect  nothing  ?  All  this  that 
tells  me  of  the  Supreme  Benefactor,  does  it  really 
but  make  me,  or  prove  me,  an  atheist?  In  what 
manner — by  what  means — am  I  expecting-  ever  to 
be  reminded  of  God — ever  to  be  drawn  toward  him, 
if  his  goodness  has  no  such  effect  1  If  my  heart  has 
absolutely  no  will  to  send  upward  any  of  its  gratify- 
ing emotions,  as  incense  to  him,  what  must  be  its 
condition  ?  Is  not  this  a  reflection  calculated  instant- 
ly to  chill  all  this  delight?  Tf,  in  these  pleasurable 
emotions,  there  is  nothing  of  a  nature  that  admits  of 
being  sent  up  in  grateful  devotion,  what  estimate 
should  I  form  of  my  pleasure,  my  happiness  ?  Con- 
tent !  delighted  !  with  a  happiness  which  by  its  very 
nature  eetranares  me  from  God  1" 

14.  CatJiolic  charity  evinced. — Then  we  shall  never 
actually  see  a  disposition  to  discountenance  a  design 
on  account  of  its  originating  with  an  alien  sect,  rather 
than  to  favor  it  for  its  intrinsic  excellence ;  nor  an 
eager  insisting  on  points  of  precedence  ;  nor  a  sys- 
tematic practice  of  representing  the  operations  of 
our  own  sect  at  their  highest  amount  of  ability  and 
eff'ect,  and  those  of  another  at  their  lowest ;  nor  the 
studied  silence  of  vexed  jealousy,  which  is  thinking 
all  the  while  of  what  it  can  not  endure  to  name ;  nor 
that  labored  exaggeration  of  our  magnitude  and 
achievements,  which  most  plainly  tells  wliat  that  jeal- 
ousy is  thinking  of;  nor  that  manner  of  hearing  of 
marked  and  opjaortune  advantages  occurring  to  un- 
dertakings of  another  sect  which  betrays  that  a  story 
of  disasters  would  have  been  more  welcome  ;  nor  un- 
derhand contrivances  for  assuming  the  envied  merit 
of  something  which  another  sect  has  accomplished 
and  never  boasted  of. 

15.  Peculiar  faults  of  moderate  men.- — There  is  a 
class  of  good  men  naturally  formed  to  be  exceeding- 
ly  sober,  and  cautious,  and  deliberate,  and  anxious 


144  Foster's  thoughts. 

for  all It  may  be  conceded  to  these  worthy  men, 

that  the  advocates  of  missions  have  not  always  avoid- 
ed extravagance.  Especially  when  under  the  in- 
fluence of  a  large  assembly,  supposed  to  be  animated 
by  interests  which  extend  to  the  happiness  of  a  world, 
they  may  have  been  excited  to  use  a  language  which 
seemed  to  magnify  these  interests,  and  the  projects 
in  which  they  were  embodied,  at  the  expense  of  all 

other    duties    and    concerns While,    however, 

some  concession  is  thus  made  to  the  cautious  good 
men,  who  are  more  afraid  of  extravagance  than  of  all 
other  errors  in  designs  for  promoting  religion,  they 
must  be  told,  that  it  would  have  been  an  ill-fate  for 
Christianity  in  the  world,  if  Christians  of  their  tem- 
perament could  always  have  held  the  ascendency  in 
projecting  its  operations.  If  they  would  for  a  moment 
put  themselves,  in  imagination,  in  the  case  of  beino- 
contemporary  with  Wicliff,  or  with  Luther,  and  of 
being  applied  to  by  one  of  these  daring  spirits  for  ad- 
vice, we  may  ask  what  counsel  they  can  suppose 
themselves  to  have  given.  They  can  not  but  be  in- 
stantly conscious  that,  though  they  had  been  prot- 
estants  at  heart,  their  disposition  would  have  been  to 
array  and  magnify  the  objections  and  dangers;  to 
dwell  in  emphatic  terms  on  the  inveterate,  all-com- 
prehensive, and  resistless  dominion  of  the  papal 
church,  established  in  every  soul  and  body  of  the 
people  ;  on  the  vigilance  and  prompt  malignity  of  the 
priests  ;  and  on  the  insignificance,  as  to  any  probable 
effect,  of  an  obscure  individual's  efforts  against  an 
immense  and  marvellously  well-organized  system  of 

imposture  and  iniquity Ifin  those  instances  such 

counsel  had  been  acted  upon  as  they  would  have 
given,  that  zeal  which  was  kindling  and  destined  to 
lay  a  gi-eat  part  of  the  mightier  Babylon  in  ashes, 
would  have  smouldered  and  expired  in  a  languid, 
listless  hope,  that  the  Almighty  would  sometime  create 
such  a  juncture  of  circumstances  as  should  admit  au 


DUTIES    OF    CURISTIANITY.  145 

attempt  at  reformation  without  a  culpable  and  use- 
less temerity It  is  the  very  contrary  spirit  to 

this  of  restrictive  parsimonious  calculation  that  has 
been  the  most  signally  honored  ;  inasmuch  as  some 
of  the  most  effectual  and  of  the  noblest  services 
rendered  to  God  in  all  time,  have  begun  much  more 
in  the  prompting  of  zeal  to  attempt  something  for 
him  as  it  were  at  all  hazards,  than  in  rigorous  esti- 
mates of  the  probable  measure  of  effect. 

16.  Vast  results  fro7n  apparently  insignificant  cau- 
ses.— The  diminutive  grows  to  the  large,  sparks  flame 
into  conflagrations,  fountains  originate  mighty  streams, 
and  most  inconsiderable  moral  agents  are  made  the 
incipients  whence  trains  of  agencies  and  effects,  pro- 
ceeding on  with  continual  accession,  enlarge  into  ef- 
fects of  immense  mafjnitude.  .  .  .  Much  of  the  actual 
condition  of  our  part  of  the  world  consists  of  a  num- 
ber of  these  grand  results  of  enlarging  trains  of  effects, 
progressive  from  the  smallest  beginnings,  at  various 
distances  back  in  the  past. 

17.  Aggressive  Christianity. — There  was  once  an 
age,  when  it  had  been  most  unfortunate  to  be  a  bad 
man  ;  the  good  ones  were  so  formidably  active  and 
courageous.  There  was  a  class  of  men  whose  pro- 
fession was  martial  benevolence.  They  lived  but  for 
the  annihilation  of  wrongs;  to  defend  innocence;  to 
dwell  in  tempests,  that  goodness  might  dwell  in  peace; 
to  deliver  the  oppressed  and  captives,  and  to  dash  the 
tyrant  down.  Wo  then  to  the  castles  of  proud  wick- 
edness, to  magicians,  robbers,  giants,  dragons  :  ft)r  the 
wandering  heroes  vowed  their  destruction.  This  fa- 
mous age  is  gone  !  But  in  every  age  it  has  been 
deemed  honorable  to  wag-e  war  against  the  mischiev- 
ous  things  and  mischievous  beings  that  have  infested 
the  earth.  "  Gallant  and  heroic  world  !"  we  are  in- 
clined to  exclaim,  while  we  contemplate  the  mighty 
resistance  made  to  invading  armies,  elements,  or 
plagues ;  or  the  spirited  persecution  that  has  been 

13 


116  Foster's  thoughts. 

carried  on  as;ainst  robbers,  pirates,  monsters,  ser- 
pents, and  wild  heasts.  Yes,  tigers,  wolves,  hyenas, 
have  heon  pursued  to  death.  The  avenging  spirit  has 
hunted  the  timid  thief,  and  even  condescended  to  crush 
each  poor  reptile  that  has  been  deemed  offensive.  But 
— "  The  wtn'ld  of  fools  !"  we  cry,  while  we  consider 
that  SIX,  the  hideous  parent  of  all  evils,  and  for  ever 
multiplying  her  hniml  of  monsters  over  the  world,  is 
quietly,  or  even  co/nplaccxfl//,  allowed  hero  to  inhabit 
and  to  ravasfe.  Wheie  are  the  heroes  "  who  resist 
unto  blood,  striving  against  sin  V  Should  we  weep 
or  laugh  at  the  foolishness  of  mankind,  childishly 
spending  their  indignation  and  force  against  petty 
evils,  and  maintaining  a  fiiendly  peace  with  the  fell 
and  miglity  principle  of  Destruction  \  It  is  just  as 
if  men  of  professed  courage,  employed  to  go  and  find 
and  deslroy  a  tiger  or  a  crocodile  that  has  spread 
alarm  or  havoc,  on  being  asked  at  their  leturn,  "  Have 
yi)u  done  the  deed  V  sliould  reply,  "  AVe  have  not, 
in  leed,  destroyed  the  tiger  or  crocodile,  but  yet  we 
have  acted  heroically ;  we  have  achieved  something 
great :  we  have  killed  a  wasp  !"  Or  like  men  en- 
gaged to  exterminate  a  den  of  murderers,  who  being 
asked  at  tlier  return,  "  Have  you  accomjilished  the 
vengeance?"  should  say,  "We  have  not  destroyed 
any  of  the  murderers  ;  we  did  not  deem  it  worth 
while  to  attempt  it :  but  we  have  lamed  oue  of  their 
dogs  .'" 

18.  Christian  ivarfare. — All  Christian  exhortation, 
is  in  truth  a  summons  to  war. 

ID.  Self-devotion. — I  hold  myself  a  sacrifice,  a  vic- 
tim, consecrated  and  offered  up  on  the  great  altar  of 
the  kingdom  of  Christ,  as  one  of  the  human  fruits  of 
his  kingdom,  offered  by  him,  the  great  High-Priest, 
to  the  God  of  all. 

20.  Expression  in  an  evening  prai/er. — May  we 
consider  each  night  as  the  tomb  of  the  departed  day, 


DUTIES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  147 

and,  seriously  leaning  ovei-  it,  read  the  inscription 
written  by  conscience,  of  its  character  and  exit. 

21.  A  life  not  devoted  to  God  profitless. — Here  am 
I  with  faculties  and  an  infinite  longing  to  be  happy. 
Why  am  I  not  ?  I  have  an  oppressive  sense  of  evil 
from  which  there  is  no  escape.  I  have  intense  dis- 
satisfaction with  myself  and  all  tilings.  Oh!  it  would 
not  be  so  if  I  "  dwelt  in  God  anrl  God  in  me."  My 
life,  my  time,  each  year,  spite  of  all  I  do  and  enjoy, 
seem  a  gloomy  scene  of  emptiness  and  vanity.  It 
wf)uld  not  be  felt  so  if  it  were  for  God  that  I  lived — 
if  my  affections,  my  activities,  my  years,  my  months, 
were  devoted  to  him.  Without  this,  no  year  is  good 
in  its  progress  or  its  end.  A  high  degree  of  this 
would  have  made  our  former  years  end  nobly,  would 
have  made  the  last  do  so. 

22.  The  covetous  man. — He  refuses,  perhaps  ;  or, 
much  more  probably,  just  saves  the  appearance  and 
irksomeness  of  formally  doing  that,  by  contributing 
what  is  immeasurably  below  all  fair  proportion  to  his 
means;  what  is  in  such  disproportion  to  them,  that 
a  general  standard  taken  from  it  would  reduce  the 
contributions  of  very  many  other  persons  to  a  frac- 
tion of  the  smallest  denomination  of  our  money,  and 
would  very  shortly  break  up  the  mechanism  of  hu- 
man operation  for  prosecuting  a  generous  design, 
throwing  it  directly  on  Pi'ovidence  and  miracle. 

23.  Unemployed  resources  of  the  church. — With 
firebrands  and  torches  put  into  their  hands,  can  they 
be  content  to  stand  still  and  let  them  burn  out,  while 
the  hutje  fabric  inhabited  bv  demon  jjods,  and  filled 
with  pestilent  abominations,  spreads  wide  and  towers 
aloft  in  pride  and  security  before  them? 

2  4 .  Den  om  in  a  t  ion  a  I  appclla  t  io7is  sh  ould  be  repressed, 
to  reveal,  in  proportionahhj  greater  prominence,  the 
generic  term  Christian. — This  can  not  be  done  while 
there  is  so  little  of  the  vital  element  of  religion  in  the 
world  ;  because  it  is  so  shallow,  these  inconsiderable 


148  Foster's  thoughts. 

points  stand  so  prominent  above  the  surface,  and  oc- 
casion obstruction  and  mischief;  when  the  powerful 
spring-tide  of  piety  and  mind  shall  rise,  these  points 
will  be  swallowed  up  and  disappear. 

25.  The  philosophy  of  prayer. — Certain  fact,  that 
whenever  a  man  prays  aright,  he  forgets  the  philoso- 
phy of  it,  and  feels  as  if  his  supplications  really  uould 
make  a  difference  in  the  determination  and  conduct 
of  the  Deity.  In  this  spirit  are  the  prayers  recorded 
in  the  Bible. 

26.  Prayer  to  Heaven  the  greatest  resource  of  earth. 
— If  the  people  on  the  parched  tracts  along  the  Nile 
had  a  mighty  engine  for  raising  the  water  to  irrigate, 
what  would  be  thoug-ht  of  them  for  toilintj  with  little 
earthen  vessels,  from  which  the  element  would  al- 
most evaporate  while  they  were  carrying  it  1  Now 
look  at  our  means  for  good.  There  is  one  pre-emi- 
nent;  just  that  one  that  lies  nearly  unemployed! 
One  image  of  this  sort  suggests  another.  The  poor, 
superstitious  multitudes  of  India  believe  that  their 
adored  river  comes  from  heaven,  and  they  are  con- 
sistent. They  pant  to  go  to  it ;  they  have  recourse 
to  it  with  eager  devotion ;  they  purify  their  vessels 
with  it,  and  themselves ;  they  consider  it  a  precious 
element  in  their  food ;  they  are  happy  to  be  carried 
to  its  banks  when  dying.  Now  we  know  that  our 
grand  resource  of  prayer  is  a  blessed  privilege  grant- 
ed from  Heaven,  of  a  peculiarly  heavenly  quality : 
where  is  our  consistency,  if  wo  are  indifferent  and 
sparing  in  the  use  of  it  1 

27.  Christian  vigilance. — It  suggests  the  idea  of  a 
place  where  a  man  can  hardly  go  to  sleep,  lest  the 
plunderer  or  assassin  be  watching,  or  hovering  near 
unseen  ;  or  of  a  place  where  the  people  can  walk  out 
no  whither,  without  suspicion  of  some  lurking  dan- 
ger or  enemy  not  far  off;  and  are  to  be  constantly 
looking  vigilantly  and  fearfully  round  ;  a  place  where 
they  can  not  ascend  an  eminence,  nor  wander  through 


DUTIES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  149 

a  sequestered  valley,  nor  enter  a  blooming  grove,  nor 
even  a  jjardcn  of  flowers,  without  havinir  the  imatre 
of  the  serpent,  the  wild  beast,  or  a  more  deadly  mis- 
chief in  human  shape,  as  vividly  present  to  the  imagi- 
nation as  the  visible  enemy  is  to  the  eye. 

28.  Avoidance nf  tcmj)tat ion. — Be  careful  that  when 
unquestionable  duty  leads  into  the  way  of  temptation, 
we  stay  not  longer  near  the  temptation  than  we  are 
honestly  about  the  duty.  Beware  of  the  kind  of  com- 
panionship that  directly  leads  into  temptation.  But 
let  no  man  be  besfuiled  to  think  he  is  safe  asrainsl 
temptation  at  the  times  when  his  only  companion  is 
himself.  The  whole  tempting  world  may  then  come 
to  him  through  the  medium  of  the  imagination.  The 
great  deep  of  his  own  evil  heart  may  then  be  broken 
up.  In  this  solitude  may  come  that  tempter  that 
came  to  our  Lord  in  the  desert. 

29.  Triumph  of  meekness. — Confront  improper 
conduct,  not  by  retaliation,  but  example. 

30.  Incipient  temptation. — It  is  in  fatal  connexion 
will!  the  next  ensuing,  and  yet  conceals  what  is  be- 
hind. Since  temptation  is  suie  to  be  early  with  its 
beginnings,  so  too  should  watching  and  praying  ;  ear- 
ly in  life ;  early  in  the  day ;  early  in  every  underta- 
king !  What  haste  the  man  must  make,  that  will  be 
beforehand  with  temptation  ! 

31.  Christian  heroism,. — This  soul  either  shall  gov- 
ern this  body,  or  shall  quit  it. 

32.  Conflicts  of  xvisdom  and  virtue. — One  has  some- 
times continued  in  a  foolish  company,  for  the  sake 
of  maintaining  a  virtuous  hostility  in  favor  of  wisdom  ; 
as  the  Jordan  is  said  to  force  a  current  quite  through 
the  Dead  sea. 

33.  Conscience. — There  is  not  on  earth  a  more  ca- 
pricious, accommodating,  or  abused  thing,  than  con- 
sciE.NCE.  It  would  be  very  possible  to  exhibit  a  cu- 
rious classification  of  consciences  in  genera  and  spe- 
cies.    What  copious  matter  for  speculation  among 

13* 


150  Foster's  thoughts. 

the  vai'ieties  of — lawyer's  conscience — cleric  con- 
science— lay  conscience — lord's  conscience — peas- 
ant's conscience — hermit's  conscience — tradesman's 
conscience  —  philosopher's  conscience  —  Christian's 
conscience — conscience  of  reason — conscience  of 
faith — healthy  man's  conscience — sick  man's  con- 
science— ingenious  conscience — simple  conscience, 
&c.,  &c.,  Sec,  &c. 

34.  IVatcIi,  and  pray. — Watching  without  prayer 
were  but  an  impious  homage  to  ourselves.  Prayer 
without  watching  were  but  an  impious  and  also  ab- 
surd homage  to  God. 

35.  Rule  of  faith. — A  belief  that  in  all  things  and 
at  all  events  God  is  to  be  obeyed  ;  that  there  is  the 
essential  distinction  of  holiness  and  sin  in  all  conduct, 
both  within  the  mind  and  in  external  action,  and 
that  sin  is  absolutely  a  dreadful  evil ;  that  that  must 
not  be  done  which  must  be  repented  of;  that  the  fu- 
ture should  predominate  over  the  present. 

36.  Influences  unfriend! y  to  2^icty. — In  addition  to 
the  grand  fact  of  the  depravity  of  the  human  heart, 
there  are  so  many  causes  operating  injuriously  through 
the  week  on  the  characters  of  those  who  fomi  a  con- 
gregation, that  a  thoughtful  man  often  feels  a  melan- 
choly emotion  amid  his  religious  addresses,  from  the 
reflection  that  he  is  making  a  feeble  effort  against  a 
powerful  evil,  a  single  effort  against  a  combination  of 
evils,  a  temporary  and  transient  effort  against  evils 
of  continual  operation,  and  a  purely  intellectual  ef- 
fort against  evils,  many  of  which  act  on  the  senses. 
....  The  sight  of  so  many  bad  examjjles,  the  com- 
munications of  so  many  injurious  acquaintances,  and 
hearing  and  talking  of  what  would  be,  if  written,  so 
many  volumes  of  vanity  and  nonsense,  the  predomi- 
nance of  fashionable  dissipation  in  one  class,  and  of 
vulgarity  in  another. 

37.  Religion  suhynerged  in  the  world. — I  still  less 
and  less  like  the  wealthy  part  of  your  circle  (H.'s). 


L 


DUTIES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  151 

It  appears  to  me  that  the  main  body  of  principle  is 
merged.  As  to  religion,  sir,  they  are  in  a  religious 
diving-bell ;  religion  is  not  circumambient,  but  a  little 
is  conveyed  down  into  the  worldly  depth,  where  they 
breathe  by  a  sort  of  artificial  inlet — a  tube. 

38.  Isolated  virtues  i-epressed  hij  uncongenial  asso- 
ciations.— Each  good  motive  must,  to  be  of  any  essen- 
tial value,  be  part  of  a  whole  general  system  of  such 
motives.  There  must  be  a  vital  circulation  of  the 
holy  principles  through  the  whole  soul.  The  single 
part  can  not  by  itself  have  pulsation,  and  warmth,  and 
life.  The  one  actuating  principle  will  be  surrounded 
by  a  multitude  of  others  ;  and  if  it  be  a  holy  one,  and 
they  are  hostile,  it  will  soon  be  overwhelmed  by  them 
and  perish. 

39.  Reputation  for  virtue  necessary  to  confidence. — 
But  no  public  man  can  have  such  a  reputation  with- 
out having  substantially  such  a  character.  And  by 
a  law,  as  deep  in  human  nature  as  any  of  its  princi- 
ples of  distinction  between  good  and  evil,  it  is  im- 
possible to  give  respect  or  confidence  to  a  man  who 
habitually  disregards  some  of  the  primary  ordinances 
of  morality.  .  .  .  No  man,  even  of  the  highest  talents, 
can  ever  acquire,  or  at  least  retain,  much  influence 
on  the  public  mind  in  the  character  of  remonstrant 
and  reformei',  without  the  reality,  or  at  any  rate  the 
invulnerable  reputation,  of  virtue,  in  the  comprehen- 
sive sense  of  the  word,  as  comprising  every  kind  of 
morality  prescribed  by  the  highest  moral  code  ac- 
knowledg^ed  in  a  Christian  nation. 

40.  Efficacy  of  religious  habits. — He  will  trace  all 
the  progress  of  this  his  better  life,  with  grateful  ac- 
knowledgment ,to  the  sacred  power  which  has  ad- 
vanced him  to  a  decisiveness  of  religious  habit  that 
seems  to  stamp  eternity  on  his  character.  In  the 
greater  majority  of  things,  habit  is  a  greater  plague 
than  ever  afllicted  Egypt ;  in  religious  character,  it  is 
a  grand  felicity.     The  devout  man  exults  in  the  in- 


152  poster's  thoughts. 

dications  of  liis  being  fixed  and  iiTCtrievable,  He 
feels  this  confirmed  habit  as  the  grasp  of  the  hand  of 
God,  which  will  never  let  him  go.  From  this  ad- 
vanced state  he  looks  with  firmness  and  joy  on  futu- 
rity, and  says,  "  I  carry  the  eternal  mark  upon  me 
that  I  belong  to  God  ;  I  am  free  of  the  universe ;  and 
I  am  ready  to  go  to  any  world  to  which  he  shall 
please  to  transmit  me,  certain  that  everywhere,  in 
height  or  dc^Jth,  he  will  acknowledge  me  for  ever." 

41.  Attractiveness  of  simple  and  unaffected  pieti/. — 
It  would  be  unjust  not  to  observe  that  some  Chris- 
tians, of  a  subordinate  intellectual  order,  are  distin- 
guished by  such  an  unassuming  simplicity,  by  so 
much  refinement  of  conscience,  and  by  a  piety  so 
fervent  and  even  exalted,  that  it  would  imply  a  very 
perverted  state  of  mind  in  a  cultivated  man,  if  these 
examples  did  not  operate,  notwithstanding  the  con- 
fined scope  of  their  ideas,  to  attract  him  toward  the 
faith  which  renders  them  so  happy  and  excellent,  ra- 
ther than  to  repel  him  from  it. 

42.  Sloio  jirogress  i?i  inety. — How  strange  and  moi-- 
tifying  that  progress  in  personal  religion  is  so  diffi- 
cult !  that  it  should  not  be  the  natural,  earnest,  and 
even  impetuous  tendency  of  an  immortal  spirit,  sum- 
moned to  the  prosecution  of  immortal  interests  ! 

43.  The  Savior,  though  unseen,  loved. — Think  of 
all  the  affection  of  human  hearts  that  has  been  given 
to  the  Savior  of  the  world,  since  he  withdrew  his  vis- 
ible presence  from  it !  He  has  appeared  to  no  eye 
of  man  since  the  apostles ;  but  millions  have  loved 
him  with  a  fervency  which  nothing-  could  extinffuish, 
in  life  or  death.  Think  of  the  great  "  army"  of  those 
who  have  suffered  death  for  this  love,  and  have  cher- 
ished it  in  death  !  A  mightier  number  still  would 
have  died  for  it,  and  with  it,  if  summoned  to  do  so. 
Think  of  all  those  who,  in  the  excitement  and  inspi- 
ration of  this  love,  have  indefatigably  labored  to  pro- 
mote the  glory  of  its  great  object ! — and  the  innumer- 


DUTIES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  153 

able  multitude  of  those  who,  though  less  prominently 
distinguished,  have  felt  this  sacred  sentiment  living 
in  the  soul,  as  the  principle  of  its  best  life,  and  the 
source  of  all  its  immortal  hopes  !  This  is  a  splendid 
fact  iu  the  history  of  our  race,  a  glorious  exception 
to  the  vast  and  fatal  expenditure  of  human  affection 
on  unworthy  and  merely  visible  things.  So  grand  a 
tribute  of  the  soul  has  been  redeemed  to  be  given  to 
the  Redeemer,  though  an  object  unseen  !  .  .  .  .  Our 
conceptions  are  not  reduced  and  confined  down  to  a 
precise  image  of  human  personality — a  particular,  in- 
dividual, graphical  form,  which  would  be  always  pres- 
ent to  the  mind's  eye,  in  every  meditation  on  the  ex- 
alted Redeemer Thus  we  can  with  somewhat 

the  more  facility  give  our  thoughts  an  unlimited  en- 
largement in  contemplating  his  sublime  character 
and  nature.  Thus  also  we  are  left  at  o^reater  freedom 
in  the  effort  to  form  some  grand  though  glimmeiing 
idea  of  him  as  possessing  a  glorious  body,  assumed 
after  his  victorv  over  death.  Our  freedom  of  thought 
is  the  more  entire  for  arraying  the  exalted  Mediator 
in  eveiy  glory  which  speculation,  imagination,  devo- 
tion, can  combine,  to  shadow  forth  the  magnificence 
of  such  an  adored  object.  .  .  .  .  The  manner  in  which 
he  appears  in  the  visions  of  Daniel ;  the  transfigura- 
tion ;  in  his  manifestation  to  Paul  ;  and  the  transcen- 
dent imatres  in  the  visions  of  John — in  endeavoring 
to  form  a  sublime  conception  of  him,  can  add,  and 
accumulate  upon  the  idea,  all  the  glory  that  has  arisen 
to  him  from  the  progress  of  his  cause  in  the  world 
ever  since.  So  many  mighty  interpositions ;  con- 
quests gained;  sti'ongholds  of  darkness  demolished; 
such  a  multitude  of  sinful  immortal  spirits  redeemed 
— devoted  to  him  on  earth,  and  now  triumphing  with 
him  in  heaven:  all  this  is  become  an  added  radiance 
around  the  idea  of  him  ! 

44.  Desire  of  association. — A  reflection  that  never 
occurs  without  the  bitterest  pain  :  one  longs  for  affec- 


154  Foster's  thoughts. 

tion,  for  an  object  to  love  devotedly,  for  an  interest- 
ing friend  to  associate  and  commune  with  ;  meanwhile 
THE  Deity  offers  his  friendship  and  communion,  and 
is  refused,  or  forgotten  !  !  There  are,  too,  the  sages 
of  all  ages — there  is  Moses,  Daniel,  Elijah  ;  and  you 
complain  of  loant  of  society  !  !  ! 

45.  God  dwells  in  Ms  people. — God  has  an  all-per- 
vading power ;  can  interpose,  as  it  were,  his  very  es- 
sence through  the  being  of  his  creatures ;  can  cause 
himself  to  1)6  apprehended  and  felt  as  absolutely  in 
the  soul — such  an  inteixommunion  as  is,  by  the  na- 
ture of  things,  impossible  between  created  beings. 
And  thus  the  interior,  central  loneliness,  the  solitude 
of  the  soul,  is  banished  by  a  perfectly  intimate  pres- 
ence, which  imparts  the  most  affecting  sense  of  soci- 
ety— a  society,  a  communion,  which  imparts  life  and 
joy,  and  may  continue  in  perpetuity.  To  men  com- 
pletely immersed  in  the  world,  this  might  appear  a 
very  abstracted  and  enthusiastic  notion  of  felicity; 
but  to  those  who  have,  in  any  measure,  attained  it, 
the  idea  of  its  loss  would  give  the  most  emphatic 
sense  of  the  expression, — "  "Without  God  in  the 
Avorld  !" 

46.  The  rewards  of  jnety  progressively  developed. 
— Any  train  of  serious  thoughts  and  exercises  in  the 
mind,  having  a  reference  to  practical  good,  and  be- 
ginning on  one  suggestion,  one  conviction,  but  at  last 
attaining  the  ultimate  effect  or  result ;  ....  a  course 
of  inquiry  concerning  any  important  truth ;  the  begin- 
ning is  ignorance,  doubt,  anxiety,  dread  of  the  labor, 
misty  and  dubious  twilight,  and  daybreak ;  but  the 

end,  knowledge,  certainty,  satisfaction,  &c. ; 

any  practical  undertaking  for  social   good,   as   the 

present  one  ; Christian  profession  ;  examples 

of  the  contrary  are  justly  accounted  among  the  most 
melancholy  sights  on  earth ;  .  .  .  .  life  itself:  in  the 
beginning  are  the  charms  of  infancy ;  but  the  end 
may  be  far  better ;  as  in  the  case  of  a  withered,  trem- 


DUTIES    OF    CIIRFSTIANITY.  155 

oling,  sinking  old  man,  whose  soul  is  ripe  for  eter- 
nity ;  and  it  should  be  so,  and  must  be  so,  or  life  is 
an  awful  calamity!  ....  The  fruit  is  better  than  the 
blossom,  the  reaping  is  better  than  the  sowing,  the 
enjoyment  better  than  the  reaping;  the  second  stage 
of  a  journey  to  the  happy  liome  is  better  than  the 
first;  tlie  home  itself  than  all ;  the  victory  is  better 
than  the  march  and  the  battle;  the  reward  is  better 
than  the  course  of  service;  the  ending  in  the  highest 
improvement  of  means  is  better  than  being  put  at 
first  in  possession  of  them. 


156  Foster's  thocghts. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OF   MAN THE   FORMATION  OP  CHARACTER ITS  SOUR- 
CES   AND    DIVERSITIES POPULAR    IGNORANCE,    AND 

THE    DIFFUSION    OF    KNOWLEDGE. 

1.  On  the  greatness  of  man. — Mankind  viewed 
collectively,  as  an  assemblage  of  beings,  presents  to 
contemplation  an  object  of  astonishing  magnitude.  It 
has  spread  over  this  wide  world  to  essay  its  powers 
against  every  obstacle,  and  every  element;  and  to 
plant  in  every  region  its  virtues  and  its  vices.  As 
we  pass  along  the  plains,  we  perceive  them  marked 
by  the  labors,  the  paths,  or  the  habitations  of  man. 
Proceeding  forward  across  rivers,  or  through  woods, 
or  over  mountains,  we  still  find  man  in  possession  on 
the  other  side.  Each  valley  that  opens,  and  each  hill 
that  rises  before  us,  presents  a  repetition  of  human 
abodes,  contrivances,  and  appropriations  ;  for  each 
house,  and  gai'den,  and  field  (in  some  places  almost 
each  tree),  I'eminds  us  that  there  is  a  person  some- 
where who  is  proud  to  think  and  say,  "  This  is  mine." 

All  the  beautiful  and  rugged  varieties  of  earth,  from 
the  regions  of  snow  to  those  of  burning  sand,  have 
been  pervaded  by  man.  If  we  sail  to  countries  be- 
yond the  seas,  we  find  him  still,  though  he  may  dis- 
claim our  language,  our  manT7ers,  and  our  color. 
And  if  we  discover  lands  whero  he  is  not,  we  pres- 
ently quit  them,  as  if  the  Creator  too  were  a  stranger 
there.  Here  and  there  indeed  a  desert  retreat  is  in- 
habited by  an  ascetic,  whom  the  solemnity  of  solitude 


FORMATION    OF    CHARACTER.  157 

has  drawn  thither;  or  by  a  felon,  whom  guilt  has 
driven  thither. 

While  he  extends  himself  thus  over  the  world,  be- 
hold this  collective  grandeur.  It  appears  prominent 
in  great  cities  built  by  his  own  hands ;  it  is  seen  in 
structures  that  look  like  temples  erected  to  time, 
which  promise  by  their  strength  to  await  the  latest 
years  of  his  continuance  with  men  ;  and  seem  to  plead 
by  their  magnificence  against  the  decree  which  dooms 
them  to  perish  when  he  shall  abandon  them  ;  it  is 
seen  in  wide  empires,  and  in  armies,  which  may  be 
called  the  talons  of  imperial  power — to  give  security 
to  happiness  where  that  power  is  just,  but  for  cruel 
'ravage  where  it  is  tyrannical ;  it  is  displayed  in  fleets  ; 
in  engines  which  operate  as  if  infoi'med  with  a  por- 
tion of  the  actuating  power  of  his  own  mind  ;  in  the 
various  productions  of  beauty ;  the  discoveries  of 
science;  in  subjected  elements, and  a  cultivated  globe. 
The  sentiment  with  which  we  contemplate  this  scene 
is  greatly  augmented  when  imagination  bears  her 
flaming  torch  into  the  enormous  shade  which  over- 
spreads the  past,  and  passes  over  the  whole  succes- 
sion of  human  existence,  with  all  its  attendant  pi-od- 
igies.  When  we  have  made  the  addition  for  futurity, 
of  supposing  the  human  race  extensively  enlightened, 
apprized  of  their  dignity  and  power,  and  combined 
in  a  far  stricter  union,  till  the  vast  ocean  of  mind  pre- 
vail over  all  its  accustomed  boundaries,  and  sweep 
away  many  of  the  evils  which  oppress  the  world — 
we  may  pause  awhile  and  indulge  our  amazement. 
Such  an  asforreofate  view  of  the  multitude,  achieve- 
ments,  and  powers  of  man,  is  grand.  It  has  the  air 
of  a  general  and  endless  triumph. 

2.  Great  men. — A  character  stands  before  us  of 
colossal  stature,  who  presents  the  lineaments  and  the 
powers  of  man  in  magnitude — a  magnitude  which 
conceals  a  numerous  crowd  of  mankind  undistinguish- 
ed behind  him.  His  aspect  declares  that  he  knows 
14 


158  Foster's  thoughts. 

he  belongs  to  himself,  and  that  he  possesses  himself; 
while  the  rest  seem  only  to  belong  as  appendages  to 
the  situation.  He  brings  from  the  Creator  a  com- 
mission far  more  ample  than  those  of  other  men  ;  and 
instead  of  having  to  learn  with  tedious  application, 
the  nature  and  circumstances  of  the  world  to  which 
he  is  sent,  it  appears  as  if  he  had  been  taught  them 
all  before  he  came.  Guided  by  intuitive  principles 
and  rule,  he  enters  on  the  stage  of  action  with  the 
intelligent  confidence  of  one  who  has  accomplished 
himself  by  frequenting  it  long.  And  whatever  still 
undiscovered  means  and  materials  are  requisite  to  his 
achievements,  some  kind  of  internal  revelation  informs 
him  where  they  are,  though  latent  in  earth,  water, 
air,  or  fire;  and  empowers  him  quickly  to  detect  them 
and  draw  them  thence.  We  observe  that  for  many 
things  he  has  regards  and  names  different  from  the 
common  ;  for  some  objects  generally  esteemed  great, 
excite  no  emotion  in  him,  or  none  but  contempt.  He 
calls  suffering,  discipline  ;  sacrifices,  emolument ;  and 
what  are  usually  deemed  insuperable  obstacles,  he 
names  impediments,  and  casts  them  out  of  the  way, 
oi  vaults  over  them.  His  mind  seems  a  focus  which 
concentrates  into  one  ardent  beam  the  languid  lights 
and  fires  of  ten  thousand  surroundinsf  minds.  It 
might  be  expected  that  a  few  such  extraordinary 
specimens  of  human  hature,  scattered  here  and  there, 
would  have  a  wonderful  influence  on  the  rest  of  men. 
One  might  expect  to  see  a  most  fervid  emulation 
kindled  wide,  indolence  and  folly  discarded,  and  trifles 
falling  to  the  ground  from  all  hands.  It  should  seem 
natural  to  make  the  reflection,  "  Either  these  are 
more  than  men,  or  we  are  less."  ....  A  sublime  image 
of  perfection  is  constantly  before  them  at  a  distance, 
though  a  gloomy  eloud  may  sometimes  interpose,  to 
obscure  or  for  a  moment  hide  it.  They  are  like 
night-adventurers,  who,  having  caught  a  view  of  a 
noble  mansion  of  a  difficult  eminence,  resolve  to  reach 


PORMATIOX    OF    CHARACTER.  159 

it,  while,  togethei"  with  the  path  that  conducts  thither, 
it  is  alternately  revealed  by  flashes  of  lightning,  and 
shi'ouded  by  the  returning  darkness.  They  are 
grieved  almost  to  madness  when  they  feel  their  spii-its 
failing  in  a  trial,  or  find  their  powers  retreating  from 
some  noble  but  arduous  attempt.  Grand  objects  in 
the  natural  world  afl'ect  them  powerfully,  and  their 
images  are  adopted  as  a  kind  of  scenery  for  the  in- 
terior apartment  of  the  mind,  to  assist  it  to  foiTn  great 
thoughts.  But  the  interest  they  feel  in  greatness 
when  it  shines  in  their  brother  man,  is  of  force  to  fire 
their  utmost  enthusiasm,  at  the  view  of  exalted  hero- 
ism, displayed  in  enterj^nse,  in  suffering,  or  even  in 
retirement,  and  to  melt  them  into  tears  at  the  recital 
of  an  act  of  godlike  generosity.  For  a  while  they 
almost  lament  that  they  could  not  be  there,  and  them- 
selves the  actors,  though  ages  have  passed  since.  In 
the  reveries  into  which  they  sometimes  wander,  they 
are  apt  to  personate  some  exalted  chai"acter  in  some 
interesting  situation  ;  or  more  frequently  to  fancy 
themselves  such  characters,  and  create  situations  of 
their  own  ;  and  when  they  return  from  visionary 
rovings,  to  the  serious  ground  of  reason,  regretting 
the  inertion  of  the  past,  they  solemnly  resolve  the 
most  strenuous  exertions  to  surpass,  beyond  measure, 
all  around  them,  and  their  present  selves. 

3.  Indifference  of  the  masses  to  the  distinctions  of 
genius. — Is  it  true  that  the  human  nature  was  cast 
to  carry  forward  the  great  series  of  existence,  from 
the  inferior  to  the  higher  ranks  of  being,  by  a  grada- 
tion which  such  parts  were  necessary  to  complete? 
or  is  it  a  solemn  decree  of  fate  that  the  aggregate 
amount  of  human  dignity  must  not  exceed  a  certain 
measure,  and  therefore  the  splendid  intellectual  pos- 
sessions of  individuals  are  of  the  nature  of  conquests, 
made  at  the  expense  of  part  of  their  brethren,  who 
must  be  degraded,  to  counterbalance  these  glories  ? 
As  to  the  very  numerous  class  who  hold  the  degree 


160  Foster's  thoughts. 

of  mediocrity,  tell  them  of  a  man  who  has  perfoiTned 
a  noble  act  of  justice  or  benevolence  in  spite  of  the 
most  powerful  temptations  to  the  contrary ;  tell  them 
of  another  who  has  suffered  tortures  and  death  for 
virtue's  sake — and  suffered  them  without  a' groan; 
describe  to  them  heroes  who  have  possessed  their 
souls  unappalled  when  environed  by  dangers,  and 
horrors,  and  death,  and  fiie  ;  or  talk  to  them  of  a  sub- 
lime genius,  that  transcending  Milton's  powerful 
agents,  who  constructed  a  road  from  the  infernal  king- 
dom to  this  unfortunate  world,  has  carried  a  path  from 
this  world  among  the  stars,  and  generally  the  emotion 
kindled  would  be  so  languid,  that  the  smallest  trifle 
will  extinguish  it,  and  turn  attention  another  way. 
They  are  content  to  acknowledge  that  such  charac- 
ters are  much  superior  to  them,  just  as  they  would 
acknowledge  that  a  tree  is  taller,  and  then  think  no 
more  about  them.  They  resemble  some  lazy  and 
incurious  peasants  inhabiting  the  neighborhood  of  a 
high  mountain,  from  the  top  of  which  they  liave  heard 
that  vast  plains,  and  cities,  and  ocean,  can  be  seen, 
but  never  thought  it  worth  the  labor  to  ascend  for 
such  a  view. 

4.  The  vtyriad  influences  comhining  to  form  char- 
acter.— Throuo'h  this  lens^thened,  and,  if  the  number 
could  be  told,  stupendous  multiplicity  of  thmgs,  you 
have  advanced,  Avhile  all  their  heterogeneous  myriads 
have  darted  influences  upon  you,  each  one  of  them 
having  some  definable  tendency.  A  traveller  round 
the  globe  would  not  meet  a  greater  variety  of  sea- 
sons, prospects,  and  winds,  than  you  might  have  i-e- 
corded  of  the  circumstances  affecting  the  progress 
of  your  character,  in  your  moral  journey.  You 
could  not  wish  to  have  drawn  to  yourself  the  agency 
of  a  vaster  diversity  of  causes  ;  you  could  not  wish, 
on  the  supposition  that  you  had  gained  advantage  from 
all  these,  to  wear  the  spoils  of  a  greater  number  of 
reo-ions.     The   formation   of  the  character  from  so 


o 


FORMATION    OF    CHARACTER.  161 

many  materials  reminds  one  of  that  mighty  appro- 
priating attraction,  which,  on  the  hypothesis  that  the 
resurrection  should  reassemble  the  same  particles 
which  composed  the  body  bofoie,  must  draw  them 
from  dust,  and  trees,  and  animals,  from  ocean,  and 
winds. 

5.  Comparativclii  trifling  incidents  of  early  life  de 
rive  vast  importance  from  prospective  hearing  upon 
character  and  destiny. — The  first  rude  settlement  of 
Rdniulus  would  have  been  an  insiQrnificant  circum- 
stance,  and  might  justly  have  sunk  into  oblivion,  if 

*  Rome  had  not  at  length  commanded  the  woi-ld.  The 
little  rill,  near  the  source  of  one  of  the  great  Ameri- 
can rivers,  is  an  interesting  object  to  the  traveller, 
who  is  apprized,  as  he  steps  across  it,  or  walks  a  few 
miles  along  its  bank,  that  this  is  the  stream  which 
runs  so  far,  and  which  gradually  swells  into  so  im- 
mense a  flood.  So,  wliile  I  anticipate  the  endless 
progress  of  life,  and  wonder  through  what  unknown 
scenes  it  is  to  take  its  course,  its  past  years  lose  that 
character  of  vanity  which  would  seem  to  belong  to 
a  train  of  fleeting  perishing  moments,  and  I  see  them 
assuming  the  dignity  of  a  commencing  etei-nity. 

6.  Unsuspected  importance  of  early  life. — When 
we  ffo  back  to  it  in  thousrht,  and  endeavor  to  recal 
the  interests  which  animate  it,  they  will  not  come. 
We  are  like  a  man  returning,  after  the  absence  of 
many  years,  to  visit  the  embowered  cottage  whei-e 
he  passed  the  morning  of  his  life,  and  finding  only  a 
relic  of  its  ruins. 

But  many  of  the  propensities  which  still  continue, 
probably  originated  then  :  and  our  not  being  able  to 
explore  them  up  to  those  remote  sources  renders  a 
complete  investigation  of  our  moral  and  intellectual 
characters  for  ever  impossible.  How  little,  in  those 
years,  we  are  aware,  when  we  met  with  the  inci- 
dent, or  heard  the  conversation,  or  saw  the  spectacle 
or  felt  the  emotion,  which  were  the  first  causes  of 
14* 


162  Foster's  thoughts. 

someof  the  chief  permnnent  tciiflencies  of  future  life, 
how  much  and  liow  vainly  we  might,  1oii<t  afterward, 
wish  to  ascertain  the  origin  of  those  tendencies. 

7.  Education  of  life. — We  may  regard  our  past 
life  as  a  continued  thousfh  irree^ular  course  ofeduca- 
tion ;  and  the  discipline  has  consisted  of  instruction, 
companionship,  reading,  and  the  diversified  influences 

of  the  world I  am  highly  pleased  to  feel  that  I 

am  acquiring  something  of  that  m'ditari/  discipline  of 
thought  and  action,  which  1  suppose  will  be  indispen- 
sable throuerh  the  whole  of  life. 

8.  Elements  of  character  traced  to  their  sources 
along  the  rctros2>ect  of  life. — I  yet  can  not  but  per- 
ceive that  the  immediate  causes  of  the  greater  por- 
tion of  the  prominent  actual  character  of  human  be- 
ings are  to  be  found  in  those  moral  elements  through 
which  they  pass.  And  if  one  might  be  pardoned  for 
putting  in  words,  so  fanciful  an  idea  as  that  of  its  being 
possible  for  a  man  to  live  back  again  to  his  infancy, 
through  all  the  scenes  of  his  life,  and  to  give  back 
from  his  mind  and  character,  at  each  time  and  cir- 
cumstance, as  he  repassed  it,  exactly  that  which  he 
took  from  it  when  he  was  there  before,  it  would  be 
most  curious  to  see  the  fraoments  and  exuviee  of  the 
moral  man  Ivinor  here  and  there  along'  the  retroc^rade 
path,  and  to  find  what  he  was  in  the  beginning  of  this 
train  of  modifications  and  acquisitions. 

9.  Ahsorliing  power  of  a  man  of  geniits. — His  mind 
seems  a  focus  which  concentrates  into  one  ardent 
beam  the  lansfuid  licrhts  and  fires  often  thousand  sur- 
rounding  minds. 

10.  States  of  mind  and  progress  of  character  are  the 
life,  and  not  a  series  of  facts  and  dates. — It  is  often 
by  a  detail  of  this  subordinate  economy  of  life,  that 
the  works  of  fiction,  the  narratives  of  age,  the  joui*- 
nals  of  travellers,  and  even  grave  biographical  ac- 
counts, are  made  so  unreasonably  long.  As  well 
might  a  chronicle  of  the  coats  that  a  man  has  worn, 


Tr 


FORMATION  OF  CHARACTER.  163 

with  the  color  and  date  of  each,  be  called  his  lif^  for 
any  important  uses  of  relating  its  history.  As  well 
might  a  man  of  whom  I  inquire  the  dimensions,  the 
internal  divisions,  and  the  use,  of  some  remarkable 
building,  begin  to  tell  me  how  much  wood  was  em- 
ployed in  the  scaffolding,  where  the  mortar  was  pre- 
pared, or  how  often  it  rained  while  the  work  was 
proceeding. 

11.  The  immortality  of  character. — AVe  must  be 
prepared  to  surrender  to  the  inevitable  approaches 
of  mortality,  and  tlie  more  earnestly  aspire  to  be 
ready  to  surrender  the  whole  of  what  can  die.  How 
striking  to  realize  the  idea,  that  at  a  time,  at  the  ut- 
most comparatively  not  distant,  this  entire  material 
frame,  with  all  that  in  it  is  now  in  order  and  in  dis- 
order, will  be  under  ground  and  dissolving  into  dust ! 
I  often  image  to  myself  the  fact,  as  it  will  one  day 
be,  when,  at  the  same  time,  all  ahoce  ground  will 
continue  to  be  as  we  see  it  now,  and  are  sharers  of 
its  life  and  activity — a  profusion  of  blooming  youth, 
amusement,  business,  infinitely  various  interests  and 
pursuits,  and  (as  now)  little  thought  of  death.  So 
far  the  anticipated,  inevitable,  and  prodigious  change, 
can  not  but  have  a  dreary  aspect.  But  there  is  the 
never-dijing  principle,  the  spiritual  agent,  the  real  and 
imperishable  being ;  that  will  be  set  free,  and  rise  in 
sublime  independence  of  dust,  and  all  that  can  be 
turned  to  dust :  let  us  take  care  of  that,  or  rather  com- 
mit it  to  God  to  be  taken  care  of,  and  then  never  mind 
the  insio-nificant  loss  which  we  are  doomed  to  incur, 
of  a  jjiece  of  organized  clay. 

12.  Want  of  self-confidence  an  element  of  weakness 
of  character. — Let  them  be  brought  into  the  necessi- 
ty of  adopting  actual  measures  in  an  untried  proceed- 
ing, where,  unassisted  by  any  previous  example  or 
practice,  they  are  reduced  to  depend  on  the  resources 
of  pure  judgment  alone,  and  you  will  see,  in  many 
cases,  this  confidence  of  opinion  vanish  away.     The 


164  Foster's  thoughts. 

mind  seems  all  at  once  placed  in  a  misty  vacuity, 
where  it  reaches  round  on  all  sides,  but  can  find  noth- 
ing to  take  hold  of".  Or  if  not  lost  in  vacuity,  it  is 
overwhelmed  by  confusion ;  and  feels  as  if  its  facul- 
ties were  annihilated  as  soon  as  it  begins  to  think 
of  schemes  and  calculations  among  the  possibilities, 
chances,  and  hazards,  which  overspread  a  wide,  un- 
trodden field  ;  and  this  conscious  imbecility  becomes 
severe  distress,  when  it  is  believed  that  consequences, 
of  serious  or  unknown  good  or  evil,  are  depending 
on  the  decisions  which  are  to  be  formed  amid  so 
much  uncertainty.  The  thought  painfully  i-ecurs  at 
each  step  and  turn — "  I  may  be  right,  but  it  is  more 
probable  I  am  wrong." 

13.  Obstinacy  of  character  not  decision. — It  may 
produce  that  false  and  contemptible  kind  of  decision 
which  we  term  obstinacy ;  a  stubbornness  of  tempei', 
which  can  assign  no  reasons  but  mere  will,  for  a  con- 
stancy which  acts  in  the  nature  of  dead  weight  ra- 
ther than  of  strength ;  resembling  less  the  reaction 
of  a  powerful  spring,  than  the  gravitation  of  a  big 
stone. 

14.  Energy  and  force  of  cJiaracter  augmented  by 
vigorous  physical  constitution. — It  would  be  for  physi- 
ologists to  explain,  if  it  were  explicable,  the  manner 
in  which  corporeal  organization  affects  the  mind ;  I 
only  assume  it  as  a  fact  that  there  is  in  the  material 
construction  of  some  persons,  much  more  than  of 
others,  some  quality  which  augments,  if  it  does  not 
create,  both  the  stability  of  their  resolution  and  the 
energy  of  their  active  tendencies.  There  is  some- 
thing that,  like  the  ligatures  which  one  class  of  the 
Olympic  combatants  bound  on  their  hands  and  wrists, 
braces  round,  if  I  may  so  describe  it,  and  compresses 
the  powers  of  the  mind,  giving  them  a  steady,  forci- 
ble spring  and  leaction,  which  they  would  presently 
lose  if  they  could  be  transferred  into  a  constitution 
of  soft,  yielding,  treacherous  debility.     The   action 


FORMATION    OF    CHARACTER.  165 

of  Strong  character  seems  to  demand  something  firm 
in  its  corporeal  basis,  as  massive  engines  require,  for 
their  weight  and  for  their  working,  to  be  fixed  on  a 
solid  foundation. 

15.  A  stremious  will  an  clement  of  decided  cliarac- 
ter. — Another  essential  principle  of  the  cliaracter  is, 
a  total  incapabihty  of  surrendering  to  indifierence  or 
delay  the  serious  determinations  of  the  mind.  A 
strenuous  tcill  must  accompany  the  conclusions  of 
thought,  and  constantly  incite  the  utmost  efforts  for 
their  practical  accomplishment.  The  intellect  must 
be  invested,  if  I  may  so  describe  it,  with  a  glowing 
atmosphere  of  passion,  under  the  influence  of  which 
the  cold  dictates  of  reason  take  fire,  and  spring  into 
active  powers. 

16.  Religious  faith  the  highest  element  of  moral 
courage. — The  last  decisive  energy  of  a  rational  cour- 
age, which  confides  in  the  Supi  eme  Power,  is  very 
sublime.  It  makes  a  man,  who  intrepidly  dares  ev- 
erything that  can  oppose  or  attack  him  within  the 
whole  sphere  of  mortality  ;  who  would  retain  his  pur- 
pose unshaken  amid  the  ruins  of  the  world  ;  who  will 
still  press  toward  his  object  while  death  is  impending 
over  him.  It  was  in  the  true  elevation  of  this  char- 
acter that  Luther,  when  cited  to  appear  at  the  diet 
of  Worms,  under  a  very  questionable  assurance  of 
safety  from  high  authority,  said  to  his  friends,  who 
conjured  him  not  to  go,  and  justly  brought  the  ex- 
ample of  John  Huss,  who,  in  a  similar  situation,  and 
witli  the  same  pledge  of  protection,  had  notwithstand- 
ing been  burnt  alive,  "  I  am  called  in  the  name  of 
God  to  go,  and  I  would  go,  though  I  were  certain  to 
meet  as  many  devils  in  Worms  as  there  are  tiles  on 
the  houses  !" — A  reader  of  the  Bible  will  not  forget 
Daniel,  braving  in  calm  devotion  the  decree  which 
virtually  consigned  him  to  the  den  of  lions ;  or  Sha- 
drach,  Meshach,  and  Abed-ncgo,  saying  to  the  tyrant, 


166  poster's  thoughts. 

"  We  are  not  careful  to  answer  thee  in  this  matter," 
when  the  furnace  was  in  sight. 

17.  I  know  no  mortification  so  severe  as  that  which 
accompanies  the  evinced  inefficacy,  in  one's  own  con- 
duct, of  a  virtuous  conviction  so  decisive  that  it  can 
receive  no  additional  cogency  from  the  resources  of 
either  the  judgment  or  the  heart. 

IS.  Query:  whether  the  generality  of  minds,  the 
common  order,  could  he  cultivated  into  accuracy  and 
discrimination  of  general  thought  1 — No  ;  they  might 
be  made  accurate  in  a  particular  department,  depend- 
ing on  facts — accurate  mechanics,  tradesmen,  gram- 
marians, &c. ;  but  not  as  thinkers  on  the  wide  gen- 
eral field  of  truth  and  sentiment.  "  This  is  very  un- 
fortunate."— "No,  madam,  all  is  appointed  by  the 
Deity  ;  and  if  more  geniuses  had  been  needful,  they 
would  have  been  forthcoming." 

19.  Commonplace  character. — As  to  the  crowd  of 
those  who  are  faithfully  stamped,  like  bank-notes, 
with  the  same  marks,  with  the  difference  only  of  be- 
ing worth  more  guineas  or  fewer,  they  are  mere  par- 
ticles of  a  class,  mere  pieces  and  bits  of  the  great 
vulgar  or  the  small ;  they  need  not  write  their  history, 
it  may  be  found  in  the  newspaper  chronicle,  or  the 
gossip's  or  the  sexton's  narrative. 

20.  Those  averse  to  inquiry. — They  resemble  some 
lazy  and  incurious  peasants  inhabiting  the  neighbor- 
hood of  a  high  mountain,  from  the  top  of  which  they 
have  heard  that  vast  plains,  and  cities,  and  ocean,  can 
be  seen,  but  never  thought  it  worth  the  labor  to  as- 
cend for  such  a  view. 

21.  Aversion  to  reflection. — Is  it  not  too  evident, 
that  people's  attention  and  thought  mainly  go  out- 
ward 1  insomuch  that  retiring  inward  would  be  like 
retreating  into  a  narrow,  dark,  desolate,  comfortless 
apartment  of  a  house,  or  into  a  prison  or  a  cavern. 
But  there  can  be  no  effective  self-examination  with- 
out a  resolute  and  often-repeated  effort  to  retire  in- 


FORMATION    OF    CHARACTER.  167 

ward,  anfl  stay  a  while,  and  pointedly  inspect  what  is 
there.  You  can  imagine  that  often  a  man  has  been 
frightened  out  of  his  soul  to  take  refuge  in  the  ap- 
parently better  quality  of  his  conduct.  Any  impulse 
the  examinei"  feels  to  do  so,  should  warn  him  to  stay 
a  while  longer  there — in  the  interior.  It  is  especially 
there  that  the  great  substance  lies  of  what  is  wrong, 
or  right,  as  toward  God. 

22.  Inattentiou  to  the  complex  action  and  diversi- 
fied, experience  of  the  mind. — Men  carry  their  minda 
as  they  cany  their  watches,  content  to  be  ignorant 
of  the  mechanism  of  their  movements,  and  satisfied 
with  attending  to  the  little  exterior  circle  of  things, 
to  which  the  passions,  like  indexes,  are  pointing. 

23.  Zjcarned  in  all  science  and  histonj  hut  that  of 
oneself. — He  may  have  lived  almost  an  age,  and  trav- 
ersed a  continent,  minutely  examining  its  curiosities, 
and  interpreting  the  half-obliterated  characters  on  its 
monuments,  unconscious  the  while  of  a  process  op- 
erating on  his  own  mind,  to  impress  or  to  erase  char- 
acteristics of  much  more  importance  to  him  than  all 
the  figured  brass  or  marble  that  Europe  contains. 
After  having  explored  many  a  cavern,  or  dark,  ruin- 
ous avenue,  he  may  have  left  undetected  a  darker 
recess  in  his  character.  He  may  have  conversed  with 
many  people,  in  different  languages,  on  numberless 
subjects  ;  but,  having  neglected  those  conversations 
with  himself  by  which  his  whole  moral  being  should 
have  been  kept  continually  disclosed  to  his  view,  he 
is  better  qualified  perhaps  to  describe  the  intrigues 
of  a  foreign  court,  or  the  progress  of  a  foreign  trade  ; 
to  represent  the  manners  of  the  Italians  or  the  Turks  ; 
to  narrate  the  proceedings  of  the  Jesuits,  or  the  ad- 
ventures of  the  gipsies ;  than  to  write  the  history  of 
his  own  mind. 

24.  Waste  of  thoughts. — The  sun  may  waste  an 
immense  proportion  of  his  beams — the  clouds  of  their 
showers — but  these  can  be  spared  ;  there  is  an  infi- 


168  Foster's  thoughts. 

nlte  opulence  still,  for  all  the  indispensable  purposes 
of  nature.  It  is  not  so  with  our  thinking  faculty. 
The  most  savins:  use  of  our  thinking  power  will  but 
imperfectly  suffice  for  the  knowledge,  sound  judg- 
ment, and  wisdom,  which  are  so  very  necessaiy  for 
us.  It  is  wretched,  then,  that  this  precious  thing,  the 
activity  of  our  thinking  spirit,  should  run  to  utter 
waste.  It  is  as  if  the  fine  element,  gas,  by  means  of 
which  your  city  is  now  lighted,  should  be  suffered  to 
expire  into  the  air  without  being  kindled  into  light. 
....  As  when,  in  some  regions,  a  swann  of  locusts 
fills  the  air,  so  as  to  exclude  the  sun,  at  once  inter- 
cepting the  light  of  heaven,  and  devouring  what  it 
should  shine  on.  Thus  by  ill-regulated  thought  we 
are  defrauded  of  what  is  the  supreme  value  of  thought. 
We  amuse  ourselves  with  the  flying  chaff,  careless  of 

the  precious  grain Wliat  will  ten  thousand  of 

these  trifling,  volatile  thoughts  come  to,  for  explain- 
ing any  subject,  disentangling  any  perplexity,  recti- 
fying any  false  notion,  enforcing  any  argument,  main- 
taining any  trutli  1  It  is  in  vain  that  the  man  glances 
in  recollection  and  research  through  all  the  idle  crowd 
of  his  ideas,  for  anything  to  avail  him.  It  were  like 
bringing  straws,  and  leaves,  and  feathers,  to  meet  an 
account  where  silver  and  gold  are  required.  .  .  .  Of- 
ten, on  looking  back  on  a  day  or  a  week,  we  can 
mark  out  large  portions  in  which  life  was  of  no  use 
—in  other  words,  was  nothing  worth — because  the 
mind  did  nothing,  and  gained  nothing;  notwithstand- 
ing that  the  while  the  pulsation  of  the  blood  and  all 
the  vital  functions  of  the  animal  life  went  on;  not- 
withstanding that  the  dial  noted  th^  rapid  hours,  the 
sun  rose  and  set,  the  grand  volume  of  truth  was  ex- 
panded before  us,  and  the  great  operations  of  nature 
held  their  uncontrollable  course It  was  impos- 
sible not  to  regret  that  the  power  most  made  for  ac- 
tion and  advance,  the  power  apparently  adapted  to 
run  a  race  with  any  orb  in  the  sky,  should  be  so  im- 


FORMATION    OI'     CHARACTJEU.  1G9 

mensely  left  beliiiid.  And  it  was  difficult  to  avoid 
the  folly  of  wishing-  that  the  soul,  too,  were  under 
some  grand  law  of  necessitated  exertion  and  inevi- 
table improvement. 

I  remember  when  once,  many  years  ago,  musing 
in  reflective  indolence,  observing  the  vigorous  vege- 
tation of  some  shrubs  and  plants  in  spring,  I  wished 
that  the  powers  of  the  mind  too  could  not  help  growing 
in  the  same  spontaneous  manner.  But  this  vain  wish 
instantly  gave  place  to  the  recollected  sober  convic- 
tion, that  there  is  a  simple  and  practicable  process 
which  would  as  certainly  be  followed  by  the  high  im- 
provements of  reason,  as  the  vegetable  luxury  follows 
the  genial  warmth  and  showei's  of  spring.  If  all  our 
wishes  for  important  acquirements  had  become  ef- 
forts, ray  friend !  if  all  those  spaces  of  time,  that  have 
been  left  free  from  the  claims  of  other  employment, 
had  been  spent  in  such  a  determined  exercise  of  our 
faculties,  as  we  recollect  to  have  sustained  at  a  few 
particular  seasons,  how  much  more  correct,  acute, 
ample,  and  rich,  they  would  at  this  time  have  been  ! 

25.  Mortfying  review  of  tJie  progress  of  character. 
— Many  years  are  now  gone  since  the  conduct  and 
the  responsibility  of  my  own  education  devolved  en- 
tirely on  myself  It  is  not  necessary  to_ review  these 
years  in  order  to  estimate  the  inanner  in  which  this 
momentous  charge  has  been  executed.  The  present 
state  of  my  mind  and  character  supplies  a  mortify- 
ing excess  of  proof,  that  the  interesting  work  has 
been  conducted  ill. 

26.  Ohservation  available  to  the  formation  of 
character. — A  great  defect  in  the  intellectual  econo- 
my of  my  life;  I  have  made  many  observations  on 
men  and  things,  but  have  let  these  observations  re- 
main in  insulated  hits,  and  have  seldom  referred  them 
to  any  general  principles  of  truth,  or  of  the  philoso- 
phy of  the  human  mind.  Such  observations  have  a 
particular  use  when  applied  to  circumstances,  but 

15 


170  Foster's  thoughts. 

not  the  general  use  of  perfecting  system,  or  illustra- 
ting theoiy.  Qy.  Has  this  defect  been  owing  to 
indolence  or  incapacity  1 

27 .  Amplitude  and  symmetry  of  character. — Quan- 
tity of  existence  may  perhaps  be  a  proper  phrase  for 
that,  the  less  or  more  of  which  causes  the  less  or 
more  of  our  interest  in  the  individuals  around  us. 
The  person  who  gives  us  most  the  idea  of  ample  be- 
ing, interests  us  the  most.  Something  certainly  de- 
pends on  the  modification  of  this  being,  and  some- 
tliing  on  its  comprising  each  of  the  parts  requisite  to 
completeness  ;  but  still  perhaps  the  most  depends  on 
its  quantity.  This  is  the  principle  of  my  attachment 
to  Y.  I  do  not  exactly  like  the  viodification,  and 
there  seems  a  defect  of  one  article  or  two  to  cntire- 
ness  ;  but  I  am  gratified  by  the  ample  measure.  Z., 
lias  both  the  ample  quantity  of  being,  and  the  charm- 
ing modification,  and  the  entire  number  of  parts  ; 
Z.,  is  therefore  the  most  interesting  individual  1  know. 

28.  Aversion  to  self -knowledge. — In  a  numerous 
assembly  or  in  the  crowd  of  a  city,  it  is  presumed, 
by  any  one  that  happens  to  think  of  it,  that  very  few, 
among  the  numbers  round  him,  have  a  deep,  com- 
prehensive, well-rectified,  steady  estimate  of  them- 
selves— a  true  insight.  The  presumption,  or  sur- 
mise, is  understood  to  go  even  as  far  as  this  ;  tliat 
suppose  any  luimber  of  persons,  acquainted  with  one 
another — the  judgments  they  form  of  one  another 
would,  in  the  whole  account,  be  nearer  the  truth  than 
those  which  they  entertain  of  their  ownselves.  not- 
withstanding the  s^reat  advantajre  men  have  for  know- 

ing  themselves  better  than  others   can There 

mjy  be  a  reluctance  to  making  a  rigorous  scrutiny, 
from  fear,  and  thus  men  remain  in  ignorance.  There 
may  be  some  apjjrehension  of  finding  the  state  of  the 
case  less  satisfactory  than  the  man  is  allowing  him- 
self to  assume  it.  This  may  seem  like  expressing  an 
inconsistency — that  a  man  will   not  know  what  he 


FORMATION    OF    CHARACTER.  171 

does  know.  But  it  is  too  real  and  common  a  case ; 
intimations  of  something  not  right  are  unwillingly 
perceived  ;  apprehension  of  what  there  may  be  be 
neath  is  felt;  a  man  would  rather  not  be  sure  of  the 
whole  truth  ;  would  wilfully  hope  for  the  best,  and 
so  pass  off  from  the  doubtful  subject,  afraid  to  go  too 
far  inward. 

But  here  is  a  most  remarkable  and  strange  specta- 
cle !  A  soul  afraid  of  itself !  afraid  of  being  deeply 
intimate  with  itself;  of  knowing  itself;  of  seeing 
itself,  having  had  some  glimpses  of  itself,  afraid  to 
meet  its  own  full  visage — afraid  to  stay  with  itself, 
alone,  still,  and  attentive — afraid  of  intimate  commu- 
nication, lest  the  soul  should  speak  out  from  its  in- 
most recesses  !  All  the  while,  what  it  is  afraid  of  is 
its  own  very  self,  from  which  it  is  every  where  and 
for  ever  inseparable ! 

29.  Escape  from,  reflection. — It  is  a  bad  sign  when 
we  see  a  person  in  this  state  or  feeling  just  merely 
anxious  and  endeavoring  to  escape  from  it ;  when 
there  is  a  horror  of  solitude  ;  a  recourse  to  anything 
that  will  help  to  banish  reflection  ;  such  as  change 
of  place  ;  making  excursions  ;  contriving  visits  and 
parties  ;  endeavoring  to  force  the  spirits  up  to  the 
pitch  of  lively  society;  even  trying  amusements,  when 
really  little  in  the  mood  for  amusement.  This  is  a 
wretched  and  self-defraudinsrmanasfement.  .  .  .  Have 
you  yet  come  to  a  determinate  judgment  on  the  state 
of  your  mind,  in  reference  to  its  greatest  interests  ] 
If  not,  is  a  season  of  unusually  gi'ave  feeling,  of  all 
times  the  wrong  one  for  such  a  purpose  %  Have  you 
yet  come  to  a  full  consent  of  the  soul  to  take  death 
and  eternity  into  the  system  of  your  interests  ;  into 
an  intimate  combination  with  all  that  you  are  wish- 
ing, projecting,  and  pursuing?  ....  If  there  be  any- 
thing dubious  as  to  this  great  matter,  are  you  impa- 
tient to  hasten  away  into  a  state  of  feeling  in  which 


172  Foster's  thoughts. 

you  may  slumber  over  such  a  question,  and  such  a 
doubt  1 

30.  Indisjyosition  of  mankind  to  thinh,  makes  the 
world  a  vast  dormitory  of  souls.  The  heaven-ap- 
pointed destiny  under  which  they  are  placed,  seems 
to  protect  them  from  reflection  ;  there  is  an  opium 
shy  stretched  over  all  the  world,  which  continually 
rains  soporifics. 

31.  Thoughts  the  mirror  of  the  heart. — Just  left 
to  themselves,  to  arise  and  act  spontaneously,  they 
would  express  the  very  state  of  the  soul,  its  inclina- 
tions, perversions,  ignorance,  or  any  better  quality 
there  may  be  in  it.  So  that  if  the  involuntary  thoughts 
could  but  stnke  against  a  mirror,  a  man  might  see 
his  mental  image. 

32.  Fundamental  cure  of  evil  thoughts. — If  there 
were  a  spot  of  marshy  ground,  which  exhaled  offen- 
sive vapors,  it  would  be  ridiculous  to  think  of  expe- 
dients to  be  used  in  the  air  above  it,  fumigations,  or 
any  such  thing  ;  the  ground  itself  must  be  drained 
and  reclaimed.  As  to  the  correction  of  the  mental 
vice  in  question,  how  evident  it  is  that  it  is  not  to  be 
a  thing  to  operate  solely  on  the  thoughts  themselves, 
rejecting,  repelling,  substituting,  &c.,  but  to  operate 
primarily  on  that  in  the  mind  which  causes  their 
prevalence.  The  passions  and  affections  are  grand 
sources  of  thoughts — they  therefore  are  to  be  in  a 
rectified  state  not  tending  to  produce  vain  thoughts. 

33.  Gradation  and  fruits  of  wicked  thoughts. — 
Thus  vain  thoughts,  compared  with  vicious,  pollu- 
ted thoughts,  malignant  thoughts,  and  blasphemous 
thoughts.  O,  the  depth  to  which  the  investigation 
and  the  censure  may  descend  ! 

We  can  easily  picture  to  our  minds  some  large 
neglected  mansion  in  a  foreign  wilderness;  the  upper 
apartments  in  possession  of  swarms  of  disgusting  in- 
sects ;  the  lower  ones  the  haunt  of  savage  beasts  ; 
but  the  lowest,  the  subterraneous  one,  the   jetreat 


FORMATION    OF    CHARACTER.  173 

of  serpents,  and  every  loathsome  livinq^  form  of  the 

mo-!t  deadly  venom Never  stagnant  pool  was 

more  prolific  of  flies,  nor  the  swarm  about  it  more 
wild  and  worthless  !  .  .  .  .  Have  they  given  and  left 
me  anything  woi-th  having?  what]  Have  they 
made  me  any  wiser  1  whei'ein  ?  What  portion  of 
previous  ignorance  have  they  cleared  away?  In 
what  point  is  my  judgment  rectified  ?  What  good 
purpose  have  they  fixed  or  forwarded  1  What  one 
thing  that  was  wrong  has  been  corrected?  or  even 
more  clearly  seen  how  to  be  con-ected  ?  Is  it,  can 
it  be  the  fact,  that  all  that  succession  passed  me  but 
as  the  lights  and  shadows  of  an  April  day  ?  or  as  the 
insects  that  have  flown  past  me  in  the  air  1  While 
ten  thousand  or  a  hundred  thousand  ideas  have  pass- 
ed my  mind,  might  I  really  as  well  have  had  none? 
....  Any  grains  of  gold-dust  deposited  by  the  stream 
that  has  carried  down  so  many  millions  of  particles 
of  mud  ? 

34.  Religion  the  nohlest  pursidt. — How  could  you 
estimate  so  meanly  your  mind  with  all  its  capacities, 
as  to  feel  no  regi-et  that  an  endless  series  of  trifles 
should  seize,  and  occupy  as  their  right,  all  your 
thoughts,  and  deny  them  both  the  liberty  and  the 
ambition  of  going  on  to  the  greatest  object?  How, 
while  called  to  the  contemplations  which  absorb  the 
spirits  of  Heaven,  could  you  be  so  patient  of  the  task 
of  counting  the  flies  of  a  summer's  day? 

35.  Vices  fiourisliing  in  old  age. — An  old  stump 
of  an  oak,  with  a  few  young  shoots  on  its  almost  bare 
top.     Analogy  :   youthful  follies  growing  on  old  age. 

36.  Splendid  talents  without  virtuous  jihilanthropy . 
— A  still  pool  amid  a  most  barren  heath,  shining 
resplendently  in  the  moi-ning  sunshine.  Analogy  : 
talents  accompanied  with  moral  barrenness,  that  is, 
indolence  or  depravity. 

37.  Limited  acquirements  from  unlimited  means  of 
improvement. — What  an  astonishing  massof^;aZ(a/«»i 

15* 


174  Foster's  thoughts. 

is  consumed  to  sustain  an  individual  human  beiner ! 
How  much  nourishment  I  have  consumed  by  eating 
and  drinking;  how  much  air  by  breatliing;  how 
much  of  the  element  of  afFection  my  heart  has  claim- 
ed, and  has  sometimes  lived  in  luxury,  and  sometimes 
starved  !  Above  all !  what  an  infinite  sum  of  those 
instructions  which  are  to  feed  the  moral  and  intel- 
lectual man,  have  I  consumed,  and  how  poor  the 
consequence  !  What  a  despicable,  dwarfish  growth 
I  exhibit  to  myself  and  to  God  at  this  hour  ! 

Yes,  how  much  it  takes  in  this  last  respect,  to  grow 
how  little  !  Millions  of  valuable  thoughts  I  suppose 
have  passed  through  my  mind.  How  often  my  con- 
science has  admonished  me!  How  many  thousands 
of  pious  resolutions  !  How  all  nature  has  preached 
to  me  !  How  day  and  night,  and  solitude  and  the 
social  scenes,  and  books  and  the  bible,  the  g)-avity  of 
sermons  and  the  flippancy  of  fools,  life  and  death,  the 
ancient  world  and  the  modern,  sea  and  land,  and  the 
omnipresent  God  !  have  all  concurred  to  instruct  me ! 
and  behold  the  miserable  result  of  all  !  !  I  wonder 
if  the  measure  of  effect  be  a  ten  thousandth  part  of 
the  bulk,  to  call  it  so,  of  this  vast  combination  of 
causes.  How  far  is  this  strange  propoition between 
moial  eff*ects  and  their  causes  necessary  in  simple 
nature  (analogically  with  the  proportion  between 
cause  and  consequence  m  physical pahuluni),  and  how 
far  is  it  the  indication  and  the  consequence  of  nature 
being  depraved,  ?  However  this  may  be,  the  enor- 
mous fact  of  the  inefficacy  of  truth  shades  with  mel- 
ancholy darkness  to  my  view,  all  the  hopes  for  my- 
self and  for  others,  of  any  grand  improvements  in  this 
woild  ! 

38.  Valuable  acquirements  personal. — The  man 
into  whose  house  I  step  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  or  whom 
I  meet  on  the  road,  or  whose  hand  1  take,  and  con- 
verse with  him,  looking  in  his  face  the  while — he  so 
near  me,  that  walks  with  me,  that  tiaverses  a  field  or 


FORMATION  OF  CHARACTER.  175 

pits  in  an  ai'bor  with  me — he  may  have  a  soul  fraught 
with  celestial  fire,  stores  of  Pcience,  brilliant  ideas, 
mngnaitimous  principles,  while  I — T  that  observe  his 
countenance  and  hear  him  talk — ninv  have  nothin"- 
of  all  this.  He  may  for  the  last  ten  years  have  been 
assiduous  in  stuilics  day  and  night,  while  I  have  con- 
sumed the  moining  in  sleep,  and  the  day  in  indolent 
vacancy  of  every  seutiment,  except  winJiing,  "which 
of  all  employments  is  the  worst."  AA-^hat  right  have 
I  to  wisli  he  should  leave  pai't  of  his  animated  and 
powerful  character  with  me  ?  But  he  can  not,  if  he 
would.  He  takes  his  resplendent  soul  away,  and 
leaves  me  to  feel, that  as  he.  is  individual,  so,  too,  un- 
fortunately, am  I.  The  mind  must  operate  within 
its  own  self,  and  by  its  own  will;  else,  though  sur- 
rounded by  a  legion  of  angels,  it  would  be  dark  and 
stationary  still. 

39.  Aj)j)roi-ing  the  good  bvt  jpur suing  the  bad. — 
There  is  the  great  affair — moral  and  leligious  improve- 
ment. What  is  the  true  business  of  life  ?  To  grow 
wiser,  more  pious,  more  benevolent,  more  ardent, 
more  elevated  in  every  noble  purpose  and  action,  to 
resemble  the  Divinitv  !  It  is  acknowlcdsred  :  who 
denies  or  doubts  it  ?  What  then  ?  Why,  care  noth- 
ing at  all  about  it  !  Sacrifice  to  trifles  the  energies 
of  the  heart,  and  the  short  and  fleeting  time  allotted 
for  divine  attainments  !  Such  is  the  actual  course 
of  the  world.     What  a  thing  is  mankind  ! 

40.  Vahce  of  conversational  power. — Struck,  in  two 
instances,  with  the  immense  im]:)ortance,  to  a  man  of 
sense,  of  obtaining  a  conversational  prcdominayice,  in 
order  to  be  of  any  use  in  any  company  exceeding 
the  smallest  number. — Example,    W.  Frend. 

41.  Assimilating  influence  of  intercourse  ivith  men 
of  genius. — A  person  who  can  be  habitually  in  the 
company  of  a  communicative  man  of  c)riginal  genius 
for  a  considerable  time,  without  being  greatly  modi- 
fied, is  either  a  very  great,  or  a  contemptibly  little 


176  Foster's  thoughts. 

being ;  he  has  either  the  vigorous  firmness  of  the  oak, 
or  the  heavy  firmness  of  the  stone. 

42.  Proper  end  of  reading. — Readers  in  general 
who  have  an  object  beyond  amusement,  yet  are  not 
apprized  of  the  most  important  use  of  reading,  the 
acquisition  of  power.  Their  knowledge  is  not  pow- 
er; and,  too,  the  memory  retains  but  the  small  part 
of  the  kniiwledge  of  which  a  book  should  be  full  ; 
the  grand  object,  then,  should  be  to  improve  the 
strength  and  tone  of  the  mind  by  a  thinking,  analyzing, 
discriminatino:,  manner  of  readin"'. 

43.  Gentleness  tempered  by  firmness. — A  character 
should  retain  always  the  upright  vigor  of  manliness; 
not  let  itself  be  bent  and  fixed  in  any  specific  form. 
It  should  he  like  an  upright  elastic  tree,  which  bends, 
accommodating  a  little  to  each  wind  on  every  side, 
but  never  loses  its  spi'ing  and  self-dependent  vigor. 

44.  Long  familiarity  with  the  fashionable  world 
destroys  the  relish  for  the  inore  substantial  enjoyments 
of  life. — After  looking  a  good  while  on  the  glarino- 
side  of  the  view,  my  eye  does  not  nicely  distinguish 
these  modest  beauties  in  the  shade.  Analogy :  a  man 
whose  feelings  and  habits  are  formed  in  splendid  and 
fashionable  life,  has  no  relish  for  the  charms  of  re- 
tirement, or  of  secluded,  affectionate  society. 

45.  Character  of  courtiers. — Characters  formed 
in  the  routine  of  a  court,  like  pebbles  in  a  brook,  are 
rounded  into  a  smooth  uniformity,  in  which  the  points 
and  angles  of  virtuous  singularity  are  lost. 

46.  Great  natural  amiablencss  of  character,  seems 
not  compatible  with  the  sublimest  virtue'. — I  doubt 
if  S.  is  not  too  innocent  to  become  sublimely  excel- 
lent ;  her  heart  is  purity  and  kindness  ;  her  recollec- 
tions are.complacent ;  her  wishes  and  intentions  are 
all  good.  In  such  a  mind  conscience  becomes  ef- 
feminate for  want  of  hard  exercise.  She  is  exempt- 
ed from  those  revulsions  of  the  heart,  that  remorse, 
those  self-indignant  regrets,  those  impetuous  convic- 


FORMATION    OF    CHARACTER.  177 

tions,  which  sometimes  assist  to  scourge  the  mind 
away  from  its  stationary  habits  into  such  a  region  of 
daring  and  arduous  virtue,  as  it  would  never  have 
reached,  nor  even  thought  of,  but  for  this  mighty  im- 
pulse of  pain.  Witness  Albany  in  Cecilia.  Vehe- 
ment emotion,  mortifying  contrast,  shuddering  alarm, 
sting  the  mind  into  an  exertion  of  power  it  was  un- 
conscious of  before,  and  urge  it  on  with  restless 
velocity  toward  the  attainment  of  that  moral  em- 
inence, short  of  which  it  would  equally  scoi"n  and 
dread  to  repose.  We  fly  from  pain  or  terror  more 
eagerly  than  we  pursue  good ;  but  if  both  these 
causes  aid  our  advance  ! 

A  young  eagle  perhaps  would  never  have  quitted 
the  warm  luxury  of  its  nest,  and  towered  into  the 
sky,  if  the  parent  had  not  pushed  it  or  the  tempest 
flung  it  off",  and  thus  compelled  it  to  fly  by  the  dan- 
ger of  perishing.  Is  it  not  too  possible  that  S.  may 
repose  complacently  in  the  innocent  softness  of  her 
nest,  and  die  without  ever  having  unfolded  the  wing 
of  sublime  adventure.  At  siojht  of  such  a  death  one 
would  weep  with  tenderness,  not  glow  with  admira- 
tion ;  it  is  a  charming  woman  that  falls,  not  a  radiant 
antjel  that  rises. 

47.  Exquisite  susceptihility. — (Remark  on  the 
character  of  Green.)  There  is  such  a  pi'edominant 
habit  of  deep  feeling  in  his  mind,  that  the  smallest 
touch,  a  single  sentence,  will  instantly  bring  his  mind 
and  his  vei'y  voice  into  that  tone.  Comparing  him 
to  a  musical  strinsred  instrument  I  should  sav,  that  he 
never  needed /"z^w/wo-;  the  strings  are  perfectly  ready 
at  any  moment;  you  have  only  to  touch  them  and 
they  will  sound  hannoniously  the  genuine  music  of 
sentiment. 

48.  Individuality  of  manners. — Stroke  of  descrip- 
tion of 's  manners,  when  in  the  most  advan- 
tageous form.  "  He  is  neither  vulgar  nor  genteel, 
nor  any  compound  of  these  two  kinds  of  vulgarity. 


178  poster's  thoughts. 

He  has  the  manners  of  710  class,  but  something  of  a 
quite  different  order.  His  manners  are  a  pait  of  his 
soul,  like  the  style  of  a  writer  of  genius.  His  man- 
ners belong  to  the  individual.  He  makes  you  think 
neither  of  clown  nor  gentleman — but  of  man. 

49.  Discrimination  of  character. —  (Character  of 
one  of  my  acquaintance,  whom  a  friend  vvas  descri- 
bing as  melancholy.)  "No;  her  feelings  are  rather 
fretted  than  melancholy." 

50.  Description  of  character. — (Feature  of  the 
character  of  one  of  my  friends.)  "  Cautious  without 
suspicion,  and  discriminating  without  fastidiousness." 

51.  Description  of  character. — (Touch  of  descrip- 
tion of  a  young  woman  in  the  lower  ranks,  not  cul- 
tivated into  a  girl  of  sense,  yet  not  so  thoughtlessly 
vacant  as  the  common  vulgar.)      "  She  has  notions" 

52.  Description  of  character. — Ego.  There  is  a 
want  of  continuity  in  your  social  character.  You 
seem  broken  into  fragments.  H.  Well,  I  sparkle  in 
fragments.  Ego.  But  how  much  better  to  shine 
whole,  like  a  mirror  % 

53.  Effect  of  amusements. — Against  amusements, 
defended  on  the  plea  of  necessary  relaxation.  I 
maintain  that  excitement  is  excitability  too.  An  an- 
imated, affecting  interest,  supplies  to  the  mind  more 
than  it  consumes.  The  further  a  man  advances  in 
the  ardor  that  belongs  to  a  noble  employment  and 
object,  the  more  mightily  he  lives.  Other  men  will  per- 
haps advance  with  him  to  a  certain  point,  and  there 
they  stop — he  goes  on  ;  now  the  ratio  of  his  progress 
and  his  animation  is  compai'atively  greater  on  that 
far-advanced  ground  beyond  where  they  left  him, 
than  within  an  equal  space  in  the  eai'lier  part  of  the 
course.  The  mind  inspii'ed  with  this  enthusiasm  as- 
serts its  grandeur.  It  expands  toward  eternity,  an- 
ticipative  of  its  destiny.  It  lives,  as  Alonzo  says,  not 
by  the  vulgar  calculation  of  months  and  yeai's,  but 
along  the  progression   of  sublime  attainment,  and 


FORMATION    OF    CHARACTER.  179 

amid  the  flames  of  an  ardor  which  whirls  it  hke  a 
comet  toward  the  sun. 

Would  you  be  a  stranger  to  this  energy  of  soul — 
or,  feeling  it,  would  you  prostitute  it  to  seek  a  poor 
factitious  interest  in  systematic  trifling? 

54.  Poicer  of  had  habit. — I  know  from  experience 
that  habit  can,  in  direct  opposition  to  every  convic- 
tion of  the  mind,  and  but  little  aided  by  the  elements 
of  temptation  (such  as  present  pleasure,  &c.),  induce 
a  repetition  of  the  most  unworthy  actions.  The  mind 
is  weak  where  it  has  once  given  way.  It  is  long  be- 
fore a  principle  restored  can  become  as  firm  as  one 
that  has  never  been  moved.  It  is  as  in  the  case  of  a 
mound  of  a  reservoir  :  if  this  mound  has  in  one  place 
been  broken,  whatever  care  has  been  taken  to  make 
the  repaired  part  as  strong  as  possible,  the  probabil- 
ity is,  that  if  it  give  away  again,  it  will  be  in  that 
place. 

55.  The  importance  and  necessity  of  a  ruling  pas- 
sion— that  is,  some  grand  object,  the  view  of  which 
kindles  all  the  ardor  the  soul  is  capable  of,  to  attain 
or  accomplish  it — possibility  o?  creating  a  ruling  pas- 
sion asserted. 

56.  Danger  of  an  exclusive  pursuit. — I  have  the 
highest  opinion  of  the  value  of  a  ruling  passion  ;  but 
if  this  passion  monopolizes  all  the  man,  it  requires 
that  the  object  be  a  very  comprehensive  or  a  very 
dignified  one,  to  save  him  from  being  ridiculous. 
The  devoted  antiquary,  for  instance,  who  is  passion- 
ately fond  of  an  old  coin,  an  old  button,  or  an  old 
nail,  is  ridiculous.  The  man  who  is  nothitig  but  a 
musician,  and  recognises  nothing  in  the  whole  crea- 
tion but  crotchets  and  quavers,  is  ridiculous.  So  is 
the  nothing  but  verbal  critic,  to  whom  the  adjustment 
of  a  few  insignificant  particles  in  some  ancient  author 
appears  a  more  important  study  than  the  grandest 
arrangement  of  politics  or  morals.  Even  the  total 
devotee  to  the  grand  science,  astronomy,  incurs  the 


180  poster's  thoughts. 

same  misfortune.  Religion  and  morals  have  a  noble 
pre-eminence  here ;  no  man  can  become  ridiculous 
by  his  passionate  devotion  to  tlievi  ;  even  a  specijic 
direction  of  this  passion  will  make  a  man  sublime — 
\\\tness Howard ;  spec{fic,Isa.y,a.nd  correctly, though, 
at  the  same  time,  any  large  plan  of  benevolence  must 
be  comprehensive,  so  to  speak,  of  a  large  quantity  of 
morals. 

57.  Important  points  ascertained. — (1.)  Inmypi'es- 
ent  circumstances,  taken  as  they  are,  setting  all  the 
past  aside,  so/ne  one  tiling  is  absolutely  tlie  hest  thing 
I  can  design  or  do.  (2.)  My  present  sphere  and 
course  of  action  is  most  certainly  not  the  best  that 
can  be.  In  proof  of  this  assertion  several  conclusive 
reasons  can  be  alleged.  (3.)  It  strictly  follows  that, 
to  change  this  sphere  and  this  course,  is  decisively  a 
part  of  ray  duty.  (4.)  And  inasmuch  as  life  is  valu- 
able, and  utility  is  its  value,  it  is  clear  that  the  case  is 
urgent,  and  that  I  am  required  to  attempt  this  change 
with  zeal  and  with  speed.  (5.)  The  greatest  good  is 
to  be  my  sovereign  principle  and  object  of  action. 
(6.)  Incidental  principle :  to  make  the  plans  I  adopt 
for  the  improvement  of  my  own  mind,  contribute 
equally/if  possible,  to  the  improvement  of  others  (by 
writing  letters,  and  otherwise).  (7.)  Is  not  this  world 
a  proper  scene  for  a  benevolent  and  ardent  mind  ? 
There  are  bodies  to  heal,  minds  to  enlighten  and  re- 
form, social  institutions  to  change,  children  to  edu- 
cate. In  all  this  is  there  nothing  that  I  can  dol !  ! 
(8.)  One  of  these  two  things,  viz.,  congenial  society, 
and  a  sphere  of  urgency  and  action,  seem  absolutely 
necessary  to  save  my  energies  from  torpor  or  extinc- 
tion. If  I  could  gain  both  !  (9.)  Oh,  how  I  repro- 
bate this  indecision  as  to  what  character  I  will  as- 
sume, and  what  designs  I  will  attempt !  (10.)  I  deem 
myself  a  man  of  capacity  beyond  the  common ;  my 
plan  of  action  ought  therefore  to  include  as  little  as 
possible  of  that  which  common  capacity  can  perform 


FORMATION    OF    CHARACTER.  181 

as  well  as  mine ;  and  as  much  as  possible  of  what 
requires,  and  will  educe,  this  superiority  of  ability 
which  I  attribute  to  myself.  (11.)  I  want  to  extend, 
as  it  were,  and  augment  my  being  and  its  interests ; 
there  is  one  mean  of  doing  this,  which,  &c. 

58.  Progressive  formation  of  character  overlooked. 
— I  have  observed  that  most  ladies  who  have  had 
what  is  considered  as  an  education,  have  no  idea  of 
an  education  progi-essive  through  life.  Having  at- 
tained a  certain  measure  of  accomplishment,  knowl- 
edge, manners,  &c.,  they  consider  themselves  as  made 
up,  and  so  take  their  station  ;  they  are  pictures  which, 
being  quite  finished,  are  put  in  a  frame — a  gilded 
one,  if  possible — and  hung  up  in  permanence  of 
beauty  !  in  pennanence,  that  is  to  say,  till  Old  Time, 
with  his  rude  and  dirty  fingers,  soil  the  channing 
colors. 

59.  Power  of  fopular  intelligence  and  virtue. — A 
people  advanced  to  such  a  state  would  make  its  moral 
power  felt  in  a  thousand  ways,  and  every  moment. 
This  general  augmentation  of  sense  and  right  princi- 
ple would  send  forth,  against  all  aiTangements  and  in- 
veterate or  more  modern  usages,  of  the  nature  of  in- 
vidious exclusion,  arbitrary  repression,  and  the  de- 
basement of  gi'eat  public  interests  into  a  detestable 
private  traffic,  an  energy  which  could  no  more  be 
resisted  than  the  power  of  the  sun  when  he  advances 
in  the  spring  to  annihilate  the  relics  and  vestiges  of 

the  winter There  is,  indeed,  a  hemisphere  of 

"  gross  darkness  over  the  people  ;"  it  may  be  possi- 
ble to  withhold  from  it  long  the  illumination  of  the 
sun  ;  but  in  the  meantime  it  has  been  rent  by  porten- 
tous lights  and  flashes,  which  have  excited  a  thought 
and  agitation  not  to  be  stilled  by  the  continuance  of 
the  gloom.  There  have  come  in  on  the  popular  mind 
some  ideas,  which  the  wisest  of  those  who  dread  or 
hate  their  effect  there,  look  around  in  vain  for  the 
means  of  expelling.     And  these  glimpses  of  partial 

16 


182  Foster's  thoughts. 

intelligence,  these  lights  of  dubious  and  possibly  de- 
structive direction  amid  the  night,  Avill  continue  to 
promjjt  and  lead  that  mind,  with  a  hazard  which  can 
cease  only  with  the  opening  upon  it  of  the  true  day- 
light of  knowledge. 

60.  Moral  illumination  intercepted  hy  popular  ig- 
norance.— How  should  a  man  in  the  rudeness  of  an 
intellect  left  completely  ignorant  of  truth  in  general, 
have  a  luminous  apprehension  of  its  most  important 
division  ?  There  could  not  be  in  men's  minds  a  phe- 
nomenon similar  to  what  we  image  to  ourselves  of 
Goshen  in  the  preternatural  night  of  Egypt,  a  space 
of  perfect  light,  defined  out  by  a  precise  limit  amid 
the  general  darkness.  .  .  .  These  latter,  so  environed, 
would  be  in  a  condition  too  like  that  of  a  candle  in 
the  mephitic  air  of  a  vault. 

61.  A  soul  confined  hy  impervious  prison-walls  of 
ignorance. — We  can  imagine  this  ill-fated  spiiit,  es- 
pecially if  by  nature  of  the  somewhat  finer  tempera- 
ment, thus  detached  from  all  vital  connexion,  secluded 
from  the  whole  universe,  and  enclosed  as  by  a  prison- 
wall — we  can  imagine  it  sometimes  moved  with  an 
indistinct  longing  for  its  appropriate  interests ;  and 
going  round  and  round  by  this  dark,  dead  wall,  to 
seek  for  any  spot  where  there  might  be  a  chance  of 
escape,  or  any  crevice  where  a  living  element  for  the 
soul  transpires ;  and  then,  as  feeling  it  all  in  vain,  de- 
jectedly resigning  itself  again  to  its  doom. 

62.  Affecting  retrospective  view  of  the  ignorance  of 
the  ivorld. — We  of  the  present  time  are  convicted  of 
exceeding  stupidity,  if  we  think  it  not  worth  while  to 
go  a  number  of  ages  back  to  contemplate  the  mass 
of  mankind,  the  wide  world  of  beinsfs  such  as  oui'- 
selves,  sunk  in  darkness  and  wretchedness,  and  to 
consider  what  it  is  that  is  taught  by  so  melancholy  an 
exhibition.  What  is  to  give  fullness  of  evidence  to 
an  instruction,  if  a  world  be  too  narrow  ?  what  is  to 
give  weight,  if  a  world  be  tco  light? 


FORMATION  OF  CHARACTER.  183 

63.  Freedom  and  spontaneous  emanation  of  knowl- 
edge.— Knowledge,  which  was  formerly  a  thing  to  be 
searclicd  and  dug  for  "as  for  hid  treasures,"  has 
seemed  at  last  bcgiiming  to  eflloresce  through  the 
surface  of  the  ground  on  all  sides  of  us. 

64.  Mind  extinguished  htj  the  hody. — By  the  very 
constitution  of  the  liuman  nature,  the  mind  seems  half 
to  belong  to  the  senses,  it  is  so  shut  within  them,  af- 
fected by  them,  dependent  on  them  for  pleasure,  as 
well  as  for  activity,  and  impotent  but  through  their 
medium. 

^b.  Knowledge  liJce  tlie  sun. — To  say  that  under 
long  absence  of  the  sun  any  tract  of  terrestrial  nature 
must  infalUhly  be  reduced  to  desolation,  is  not  to  say 
or  imply  that  under  the  benignant  influence  of  that 
luminary  the  same  region  must,  as  necessarily  and 
unconditionally,  be  a  scene  of  beauty  ;  but  the  only 
hope,  for  the  only  possibility,  is  for  the  field  visited 
by  much  of  that  sweet  influence. 

66.  Secular  knou-ledge  associated  xcith  religious. — 
They  will  talk  of  giving  the  people  an  education  spe- 
cifically religious ;  a  training  to  conduct  them  on 
througrh  a  close  avenue,  looking  straight  befoi'e  them 
to  descry  distant  spiritual  objects,  while  shut  out  from 
all  the  scene  right  and  left,  by  fences  that  tell  them 
there  is  nothing  that  concerns  them  there.  There 
may  be  rich  and  beautiful  fields  of  knowledge,  but 
they  are  not  to  be  trampled  by  vulgar  feet. 

67.  Estimate  of  the  influence  of  education. — Like 
trying  to  specify,  in  brief  terms,  what  a  highly-im- 
proved portion  of  the  ground,  in  a  tract  rude  and 
sterile  if  left  to  itself,  has  received  from  cultivation; 
an  attempt  Avhich  would  carry  back  the  imagination 
through  a  progression  of  states  and  appearances,  in 
which  the  now  fertile  spots,  and  picture-like  scenes, 
and  commodious  passes,  and  pleasant  habitations, 
may  or  must  have  existed  in  the  advance  from  the 
orijjinal  iiideness. .    .  If,  while  these  benefits  are  com- 


184  Foster's  thoughts. 

ing  so  numerously  in  his  sight,  like  an  irregular  crowd 
of  loaded  fruit-trees,  one  partially  seen  behind  the 
offered  luxury  of  another,  and  others  still  descried, 
through  intervals,  in  the  distances,  he  can  imagine 
them  all  devastated  and  swept  away  from  him.  leav- 
ing him  in  a  scene  of  mental  desolation — and  if  he 
shall  then  consider  that  nearly  such  is  the  state  of  the 
great  multitude — he  will  sureiy  feel  that  a  deep  com- 
passion is  due  to  so  depressed  a  condition  of  exist- 
ence. ...  A  few  false  notions,  such  as  could  hardly 
fail  to  take  the  place  of  absent  truth  in  the  ignorant 
mind,  however  crude  they  might  be,  and  however 
deficient  for  constituting  a  full  system  of  error,  would 
be  sure  to  dilate  themselves  so  as  to  have  an  opera- 
tion at  all  the  points  where  truth  is  wanting.  .  .  .  The 
dark  void  of  ignorance,  instead  of  remaining  a  mere 
negation,  becomes  filled  with  agents  of  perversion 
and  destruction  ;  as  sometimes  the  gloomy  apartments 
of  a  deserted  mansion  have  become  a  den  of  robbers 

and  murderers The  conjunction  of  truths  is  of 

the  utmost  importance  for  preserving  the  genuine 
tendency,  and  securing  the  appropriate  efficacy,  of 
each.  It  is  an  unhappy  "lack  of  knowledge"  when 
there  is  not  enough  to  preserve,  to  what  there  is  of 
it,  the  honest,  beneficial  quality  of  knowledge.  How 
many  of  the  follies,  excesses,  and  crimes,  in  the  course 
of  the  world,  have  taken  their  pretended  warrant  from 
some  fragment  of  truth,  dissevered  from  the  connex- 
ion of  truths  indispensable  to  its  light  operation,  and 
in  that  detached  state  easily  perverted  into  coales- 
cence with  the  most  pernicious  principles,  which  con- 
cealed and  gave  effect  to  their  malignity  under  the 
falsified  authority  of  a  ti'uth. 

68.  Prevailing  ])erversion  of  conscience. — Every 
serious  observer  has  been  struck  and  almost  shocked 
to  observe,  in  what  a  very  small  degree  conscience 
is  a  necessary  attribute  of  the  human  creature ;  and 
how  nearly  a  nonentity  the  whole  system  of  moral 


FORMATION  OF  CHARACTER.  185 

piinciples  may  be,  as  to  any  recognition  of  it  by  an 
unadapted  spirit.  While  that  system  is  of  a  sub- 
stance veritable  and  eternal,  and  stands  forth  in  its 
exceeding  breadth,  mai'ked  with  the  strongest  char- 
acters and  prominences,  it  has  to  these  persons  hardly 
the  reality  or  definiteness  of  a  shadow,  except  in  a 
few  matters,  if  we  may  so  express  it,  of  the  grossest 
bulk.  There  must  be  glaring  evidence  of  something 
bad  in  what  is  done,  or  questioned  whether  to  be 
done,  before  conscience  will  come  to  its  duty,  or  give 
proof  of  its  existence.  There  must  be  a  violent  alarm 
of  mischief  or  danger  before  this  drowsy  and  igno- 
rant magistrate  will  interfere. 
16* 


186  Foster's  thoughts. 


CHAPTER  VIIT. 

YOUTH ITS     ADVANTAGES     AND     PERILS DOMESTIC 

LIFE    AND    VIRTUES EDUCATION    OF    CHILDREN. 

1.  Active  poioers  of  youth. — How  precious  a  thing 
is  youthful  energy  ;  if  only  it  could  be  preserved  en- 
tirely englohcd,  as  it  were,  within  the  bosom  of  the 
young  adventurer,  till  he  can  come  and  offer  it  forth 
a  sacred  emanation  in  yonder  temple  of  truth  and 
virtue  ;  but,  alas  !  all  along  as  he  goes  toward  it,  he 
advances  through  an  avenue,  formed  by  a  long  line 
of  tempters  and  demons  on  each  side,  all  prompt  to 
touch  him  with  their  conductors,  and  draw  this  divine 
electric  element,  with  which  he  is  charged,  away! 

2.  Temptations  of  youth. — It  would  be  a  fine  posi- 
tion, doubtless,  for  a  man  to  stand  on  a  spot  where 
there  was  a  powei-ful  action  of  all  the  elements  al- 
most close  around  him  ;  the  earth  he  stood  on  bloom- 
ing with  flowers ;  water  thrown  in  impetuous  falls 
and  torrents  on  the  one  side — some  superb  fire  near 
at  hand  on  the  other — and  the  winds  whirling,  as  if 
to  exasperate  them  both  ;  but  he  would  need  look 
carefully  to  his  movements,  especially  if  informed 
that  others  carelessly  standing  there  had  been  whirled 
into  destruction  ;  or  if  he  saw  the  fact.  Let  young 
persons  observe  what  is  actually  becoming  of  those 
who  surrender  themselves  to  their  passions  and  wild 
propensities.  What  numbers  !  Then  in  themselves 
observe  seriously  whither  these  inward  traitors  and 
tempters  really  tend;  and  then  think  whether  sober- 


YOUTH.  187 

ness  of  mind  be  not  a  peai'l  of  great  price,  and  wheth- 
er there  can  be  any  such  thing  without  a  systematic 
self-srovernment. 

3.  Successive  periods  of  life  soon  passed. — Let  it  not 
be  forgotten  that  youth  will  soon  be  passed  away. 
Nay,  there  is  even  the  wish  in  its  possessors  for  the 
larger  portion  of  it  to  haste  away  !  A  most  striking 
illustration  of  the  vanity  of  our  state  on  earth.  It 
rapidly  runs  on  to  the  longed-for  age  of  twenty.  But 
there  it  retains  its  impetus  of  motion,  and  runs  be- 
yond that  point  as  fast  as  it  ran  thither.  With  what 
magical  fleetness  it  passes  away  till  it  loses  its  quality, 
and  life  is  Tjouth  no  more  ! 

4.  Disregard  of  the  experience  of  others  o«  ill  omen. 
It  is  a  bad  sign  hi  youth  to  be  utterly  heedless  of  the 
dictates  of  the  experience  of  persons  more  advanced 
in  life.  It  is,  indeed,  impossible  for  youth  to  enter 
fully  into  the  spirit  of  such  experience.  But  to  de- 
spise it,  to  fancy  it  proceeds  entirely  from  disappoint- 
ment, mortified  feeling,  moroseness,  or  the  mere 
coldness  of  age,  augurs  ill — and  so  these  young  per- 
sons themselves  will  think,  when  they,  in  their  turn, 
come  to  inculcate  the  lessons  of  their  more  aged  ex- 
perience. 

5.  The  harvest  of  later  life  mxist  correspond  with  the 
seeding  of  youth. — If  there  be  a  vain,  giddy,  thought- 
less, ill-improved  youth,  the  effects  of  it  will  infalli- 
bly come  in  after-life.  If  there  be  a  neg-lected  un- 
derstanding,  a  conscience  feebly  and  rudely  constitu- 
ted, good  principles  but  slightly  fixed  or  even  appre- 
hended, anhabituallevity  of  spirit,  achase  of  frivolities, 
a  surrender  to  the  passions — the  natural  consequences 
of  these  will  follow. 

6.  Time  is  the  greatest  of  tyrants. — As  we  go  on 
toward  age,  he  taxes  oui  health,  our  limbs,  our  facul- 
ties, our  strength,  and  our  features. 

7.  Youth  is  not  like  a  new  gartnent,  which  we  can 
keep  fresh  and  fair  by  wearing  sparingly.     Youth, 


188  Foster's  thoughts. 

while  we  have  it,  we  must  wear  daily,  and  it  will  fast 
wear  away. 

8.  The.  retrospect  on  youth  is  too  often  like  looking 
back  en  what  was  a  fair  and  promising  country,  but 
is  now  desolated  by  an  overwhelming  torrent,  from 
which  we  have  just  escaped. 

9.  Or  it  is  like  visiting  the  grave  of  a  friend  whom 
we  had  injured,  and  are  precluded  by  his  death  from 
the  possibility  of  making  him  an  atonement. 

10.  The  whole  system  of  life  ^oe^  on  this  piinciple 
of  selling  oneself:  then  the  question  of  estimates 
should  for  ever  recur — "  My  time  for  this  V — "  and 
this .?" 

11.  Price  of  pleasure. — All  pleasure  must  be  ioz^or/ii 
at  the  price  of  pain.  The  difference  between  false 
}>leasure  and  true  is  just  this :  for  the  true,  the  pi'ice 
is  paid  before  you  enjoy  it;  for  the  false,  after  you 
enjoy  it.  ' 

12.  Deplored  neglect  of  culture  of  youth. — How 
much  1  regret  to  see  so  generally  abandoned  to  the 
weeds  of  vanity  that  fertile  and  vigorous  space  of  life, 
in  which  might  he  planted  the  oaks  and  fruit-trees  of 
enlightened  principle  and  virtuous  habit,  which,  grow- 
ing up,  would  yield  to  old  age  an  enjoyment,  a  glory, 
and  a  shade  ! 

13.  Insensibility  to  t?ie  approach  of  old  age. — It  is 
a  most  amazing  thing  that  young  people  never  con- 
sider they  shall  grow  old.  I  would,  to  young  women 
especially,  renew  the  monition  of  this  anticipation  ev- 
ery hour  of  every  day.  I  wish  we  could  make  all 
the  criers,  watchmen,  ballad-singers,  and  even  par- 
rots, repeat  to  them  continually,  "  You  will  be  an 
old  woman — you  wall — and  you."  Then,  if  they  have 
left  themselves  to  depend,  almost  entirely,  as  most  of 
them  do,  on  exterior  and  casual  accommodations, 
they  will  be  wretchedly  neglected.  No  beaux  will 
then  draw  a  chair  close  to  them,  and  sweetly  simper, 


YOUTH.  189 

and  whisper  that  the  bowers  of  paradise  did  not  afford 
so  delightful  a  place. 

14.  True  value  of  youtli. — (Conclusion  of  a  moral, 
monitory  letter  to  a  young  acquaintance.) — I  scarce- 
ly need  to  remark  on  the  value  of  youth,  with  all  its  liv- 
ing energy  ;  but  I  may  express  my  regret  at  seeing  all 
around  me,  a  possession  so  sweet  and  fair,  so  miser- 
ably poisoned  and  stained.  I  have  only  a  question 
or  two  for  you.  Why  do  you  think  it  happy  to  he 
young  ]  why  1  When  you  shall  be  advanced  tow- 
ard the  conclusion  of  life,  why  will  you  think  it  happy 
to  liave  hccn  young  1  Is  there  the  least  possibility  or 
danger  that  then  you  may  not  think  so  at  all  ?  Why 
do  you  look  with  pleasure  on  the  scene  of  coming 
life  1  Does  the  pleasure  spring  from  a  sentiment  less 
noble  than  the  hope  of  securing,  as  you  go  on,  those 
inestimable  attainments,  which  will  not  decay  with 
declining  hfe,  and  may  consequently  set  age,  and  time, 
and  dissolution,  at  defiance  1  You  gladly  now  see 
life  before  you,  but  there  is  a  moment  which  you  are 
destined  to  meet  when  you  will  have  passed  across 
it,  and  will  find  yourself  at  the  farther  edge.  Are 
you  perfectly  certain  that  at  that  moment  you  will 
be  in  possession  of  something  that  wall  enable  you 
not  to  care  that  life  is  gone  1  If  you  should  not,  what 
then  1 

15.  Youth  improved  makes  old  age  happy. — How 
often  you  see  in  the  old  persons  who  spent  so  gay 
a  youth,  an  extinction  of  all  the  fire  !  Sometimes 
they  try  to  brighten  up  for  a  moment,  but  they  be- 
tiay  an  exhaustion  and  desertion.  They  are  sensible 
that  life  is  nearly  gone  by.  But  its  close  they  can 
not  bear  to  think  of,  no  more  than  when  they  were 
young;  but  have  no  longer  the  youthful  means  of 
driving  away  the  thought.  They  are  sometimes  pen- 
sively gloomy  ;  often  peevishly  and  morosely  so.  Oh  ! 
had  they  but  in  early  life  consecrated  the  animation 
of  their  spirits,  by  giving  a  larger  share  of  it  to  God, 


190  Foster's  TnoroiiTS. 

to  reserve  it  for  them  !  Had  they  often  tempered 
and  repressed  the  vivacity  of  their  hearts,  by  solemn 
thoughts  of  hereafter,  by  a  vigorous  appUcation  to 
•wisdom  !  they  might  have  been  fired  with  spirit  and 
animation  now,  which  not  the  approach  of  death 
could  chill  or  quench  !  nay,  would  have  burnt  the 
brighter  in  that  formidable  atmosphere. 

16.    'Philosoplnj  of  the  Jiappiness  of  domestic  and  all 
human  alliances. — 1   have  often  contended  that  at- 
tachments between  friends  and  lovers  can  not  be  se- 
cured strong,  and  perpetually  augmenting,  except  by 
the  intervention  of  some  interest  which  is  not  person- 
al, but  which  is  common  to  them  both,  and  toward 
which  their  attentions  and  passions  are  directed  with 
still  more  animation  than  even  toward  each   other. 
If  the  whole  attention  is  to  be  directed,  and  the  whole 
sentimentalism   of  the  heart  concentrated  on  each 
other  ;  if  it  is  to  be  an  unvaried,  "  I  toioard  you,  and 
you  toward  me,"  as  if  each  were  to  the  other,  not  an 
ally  or  companion  joined  to  pursue  happiness,  but 
the  very  end  and  object — happiness  itself ;  if  it  is  the 
circumstance  of  reciprocation  itself,  and  not  what  is 
reciprocated,  that  is  to  supply  perennial  interest  to 
affection ;  if  it  is  to  be  mind  still  reflecting  back  the 
gaze  of  mind,  and  reflecting  it  again,  cherub  toward 
cherub,  as  on  the  ark,  and  no  luminary  or  glory  be- 
tween them  to  supply  beams  and  warmth  to  both — 
I  foresee  that  the  hope  will  disappoint,  the  plan  will 
fail.     Affection,  on  these  terms,  will  be  reduced  to 
the  condition  of  a  famishing  animal's  stomach,  the 
opposite  sides  of  which,  for  want  of  pabulum  ititro- 
duced,  meet   and   digest,   and   consume  each  other. 
Attachment  must  burn  in  oxygen,  or  it  will  go  out ; 
and,  by  oxygen,   I  mean  a  mutual  admiration  and 
pursuit  of  virtue,  improvement,  utility,  the  pleasures 
of  taste,  or  some  other  interesting   concern,  which 
shall  be  the  elemen  ■  of  their  commerce,  and  make 


DOMESTIC    LIFE.  191 

them  love  each  other  not  only  Jbr  each  other,  but  as 
devotees  to  some  third  object  which  they  both  adore 
The  affections  of  tlie  soul  will  feel  a  dissatisfaction 
and  a  recoil  if,  as  they  go  forth,  they  are  entirely  in- 
tercepted and  stopped  by  any  object  that  is  not  ideal; 
they  wish  rather  to  be  like  rays  of  light  glancing  on 
the  side  of  an  object,  and  then  sloping  and  passing 
away;  they  wish  the  power  of  elongation,  through  a 
series  of  interesting  points,  on  toward  infinity. 

Human  society  is  a  vast  circle  of  beings  on  a  plain, 
in  the  midst  of  which  stands  the  shrine  of  goodness 
and  happiness,  inviting  all  to  approach ;  now  the 
attached  pairs  in  this  circle  should  not  be  continually 
looking  on  each  other,  but  should  turn  their  faces 
very  often  toward  this  central  object,  and  as  they 
advance,  they  will,  like  radii  from  the  circumfei-ence 
to  the  centre,  continually  become  closer  to  each  oth- 
er, as  they  approximate  to  their  mutual  and  ultimate 
object. 

17.  Groir/ng  strengtJi  of  mutual  ajfcctions. — One 
should  think  that  a  tender  friend.ship  might  become 
more  intimate  and  entire  the  older  the  parties  grew; 
as  two  trees  planted  near  each  other,  the  higher  they 
grow  and  the  more  widely  they  spread — intermingle 
more  completely  their  branches  and  their  foliage. 

18.  Necessities  of  man's  social  nature. — We  called 
on  an  affable,  worthy,  pious  woman  rather  beginning 
to  be  aged  (never  married),  who  lives  quite  alone. 
Asked  her  whether  she  had  not  sometimes  painful  cra- 
vinars  for  societv.  She  said  she  had  not ;  and  that  her 
habit  was  so  settled  to  solitude,  that  she  often  felt  the 
occasional  hour  spent  with  some  other  human  beings 
tedious  and  teasing.  We  could  not  explain  this  fact. 
Long  conversation,  in  walking  en,  respecting  the  so- 
cial nature  of  man.  Why  is  this  being,  that  looks  at 
mo  and  talks,  whose  bosom  is  wann,  and  whose  na- 
ture and  wants  resemble  my  own — necessary  to  me? 
This  kindred  beins:  whom  I  love,  is  more  to  me  than 


192  Foster's  thoughts. 

all  yonder  stars  of  lieaven,  and  than  all  the  inanimate 
objects  on  earth.  Delightful  necessity  of  my  nature ! 
But  to  what  a  world  of  disappointments  and  vexations 
is  this  social  feeling  liable,  and  how  few  are  made 
happy  by  it,  in  any  such  degree  as  I  picture  to  my- 
self and  long  for ! 

19.  Disturhances  of  mutual  confidence  and  affection 
not  necessary  to  confirm  tJiem. — When  expressing  a 
conjecture  that,  as  in  the  previous  course  of  love,  so 
after  marriage,  it  may  be  that  reconciliations  after 
disagreements  are  accompanied  by  a  peculiar  fas- 
cinating tenderness — I  was  told  by  a  very  sensible 
experimentalist  that  the  possibility  of  this  feeling 
continues  but  for  a  while,  and  that  it  will  be  ex- 
tremely perceptible  when  the  period  is  come,  that  no 
such  felicitous  charm  will  compensate  for  domestic 
misunderstandings.  /,  however,  can  not  but  think 
that  when  this  period  is  come,  the  sentimental  en- 
thusiasm is  greatly  subsided — that  its  most  enchant- 
ing interest  is,  indeed,  quite  gone  off. 

20.  Incipient  domestic  disputes  greatly  to  be  dread- 
ed.— A  very  respectable  widow,  remarking  on  mat- 
rimonial quarrels,  said  that  the  first  quaiTel  that  goes 
the  length  of  any  harsh  or  contemptuous  language, 
is  an  unfortunate  epoch  in  married  life,  for  that  the 
delicate  respectfulness  being  thus  once  broken  down, 
the  same  kind  of  language  much  more  easily  comes 
afterward;  there  is  a  feeling  of  having  less  to  love 
than  before. 

21.  How  far  should  mutual  confidence  he  extended  ? 
-—Whether  two  much-attached  friends,  suppose  a 
njarried  pair,  might  adopt  a  system  of  confidence  so 
entire,  as  to  be  total  confiessors  to  each  other;  dis- 
closing, for  instance,  at  the  end  of  each  day,  all  the 
most  unworthy  or  ungracious  ideas  and  feelings  that 
bad  passed  through  their  minds  during  the  course 
of  it,  both  with  respect  to  each  other,  and  any  other 
question  or  thing  \ 


DOMESTIC    LIFE.  193 

22.  Delicate  concealment  of.  ignorance  or  error  of 
a  companion. — One  has  been  amused  sometimes, 
when  one  of  the  domestic  associates  has  advanced 
an  opinion,  or  recited  a  supposed  fact,  which  the  other 
has  thought  extremely  absurd,  to  see  that  other  in 
haste  to  express  his  or  her  contempt  of  such  folly  of 
opinion,  or  credulity  of  belief,  instead  of  silently 
sliding  the  circumstance  or  the  subject  out  of  con- 
versation, or  mildly  expressing  that  he  or  she  can  not 
entirely  concur  in  opinion  or  belief,  and  endeavoring 
to  make  as  good  a  I'etreat  as  possible  for  the  associ- 
ate's ignorance  or  weakness.  I  say,  one  has  been 
amused;  but  in  some  instances  one  has  felt  a  painful 
sympathy  with  the  person  so  treated  with  scorn  by  an 
intimate  relative,  and  before  a  number  of  witnesses, 
each  of  whom  would  have  politely  let  pass  the  un- 
fortunate remark  or  narration.  Striking  instances 
in  Mr.  and  Mrs. ,  and  Dr.  and  Mrs.  . 

23.  In  domestic  disputes,  a  want  of  sentiment  in  the 
parties,  greatly  diminishes  suffering. — Among  mar- 
ried persons  of  the  common  size  and  texture  of  minds, 
the  grievances  they  occasion  one  another  are  rather 
feelings  of  irritated  temper  than  of  Jitirt  sentiment ; 
an  important  distinction.  Of  the  latter  perhaps  they 
were  never  capable,  or  perhaps  have  long  since  worn 
out  the  capability.  Their  pain,  therefore,  is  far  less 
deep  and  acute  than  a  sentimental  observer  would 
suppose  or  would  in  the  same  circumstances,  with 
their  oion  feelings,  suffer. 

24.  In  congenial  domestic  alliances  a  hopeless  pre- 
dicament.— A  man  or  woman  with  a  stupid  or  per- 
verse partnei',  but  still  hoping  to  see  this  partner  be- 
come all  that  is  desired,  is  like  a  man  with  a  wooden 
leg  wishing  it  might  become  a  vital  one,  and  some- 
times for  a  moment  fancying  this  almost  possible. 

25.  Inconsiderate  domestic  alliances. — Their  court- 
ship was  carried  on  in  poetry.     Alas  !  many  an  en- 

17 


194  poster's    TirCUGHTS. 

amoved  pair  have  coui'ted  in  poetry,  and  after  mar- 
riage, lived  in  prose. 

26.  Early  cducatioyi greatly  defective. — Education 
always  appears  to  me  as  the  one  thing  which,  taken 
generally,  is  the  most  vilely  managed  on  earth. 

27.  Undue  restraint  of  children  to  he  deprecated. — 
A  very  important  principle  in  education,  never  to 
confine  children  long  to  any  one  occupation  or  place. 
It  is  totally  against  their  nature,  as  indicated  in  all 
their  voluntary  exercises.  Was  very  much  struck 
with  this  consideration  to-day.  I  was  incommoded 
a  while  by  three  or  four  children  in  front  of  the 
house,  who  made  an  obsteperous  noise,  from  the  glee 
of  some  amusement  that  seemed  to  please  them  ex- 
ceedingly. But  I  knew  that  they  would  not  be  pleased 
very  long;  accordingly  in  about  half  an  hour  they 
were  tired  of  sport,  and  went  off  in  quest  of  some- 
thing else.  I  inferred  the  impossibility,  in  the  disci- 
pline of  education,  of  totally  resti-aining  the  innate 
propensity,  and  the  folly  of  attempting  it. 

28.  Education  of  children  in  simple  habits  import- 
ant.— Interesting  conversation  with  Mr.  S.  on  edu- 
cation. Astonishment  and  grief  at  the  folly,  espe- 
cially in  times  like  the  present,  of  those  parents  who 
totally  forget,  in  the  formation  of  their  chilrlren's 
habits,  to  inspire  that  vigorous  independence  which 
acknowledges  the  smallest  possible  number  of  wants, 
and  so  avoids  or  triumphs  over  the  negation  of  a 
thousand  indulgences,  by  always  having  been  taught 
and  accustomed  to  do  without  them.  "  How  many 
things,"  says  Socrates,  "  I  do  not  want." 

29.  Children's  hall — a  detestable  vanity.  Mamma 
solicitously  busy  for  several  weeks  previously,  with 
all  the  assistance  too  of  milliners  and  tasteful  friends, 
with  lengthened  dissertations,  for  the  sole  purpose 
of  equipping  two  or  three  children  to  appear  in  one 
of  these  miserable  exhibitions.     The  whole  business 


EDUCATION    OP    CHILDREN.  195 

seems  a  contrivance,  expressly  intended  to  concen- 
trate to  a  focus  of  preternatural  heat  and  stimulus 
every  vanity  and  frivolity  of  the  time,  in  order  to 
blast  for  ever  the  simplicity  of  their  little  souls,  and 
kindle  their  vain  propensities  into  a  thousand  times 
the  force  that  mere  natuie  could  ever  have  supplied. 

30.  Proper  companionship  of  children  important. 
— Observed  with  regret  one  or  two  children  of  a 
respectable  family  mingling  in  this  group  with  sev- 
eral little  dirty,  profane  blackguards.  Qu.  As  to  the 
best  method  of  preventing  all  communication  of  chil- 
dren meant  to  be  educated  in  the  best  manner,  with 
all  other  children,  whether  of  the  vulgar  class,  or  the 
genteel,  which  will  do  as  much  mischief  as  the  vulgar, 

31.  True  scope  and  aim  of  education. — Judicious 
education  anxiously  displays  to  its  pupils  its  own  in- 
sufficiency and  confined  scope,  and  tells  them  that 
this  whole  earth  can  be  but  a  place  of  tuition,  till  it 
become  either  a  depopulated  ruin,  or  an  Elysium  of 
perfect  and  happy  beings.  Its  object  is  to  qualify 
them  for  entering  with  advantage  into  the  greater 
school  where  the  whole  of  life  is  to  be  spent,  and  its 
last  emphatic  lesson  is  to  enforce  the  necessity  of  an 
ever-watchful  discipline,  which  must  be  imposed  by 
each  individual  self,  when  exempted  from  all  external 
authority.  The  privileges,  the  hazards,  and  the  ac- 
countableness  of  this  maturity  of  life,  and  the  con- 
signment to  one's  self,  make  it  an  interesting  situa- 
tion. It  is  to  be  intrusted  with  the  care  of  a  being 
infinitely  dear,  whose  destiny  is  yet  unknown,  whose 
faculties  are  not  fully  expanded,  whose  interests  we 
but  dimly  ascertain,  whose  happiness  we  may  throw 
away,  and  whose  animation  we  had  rather  indulge  to 
j'evel  than  train  to  labor. 

32.  Fearful  responsibility  of  parents. — Will  en- 
deavor not  to  forget  the  impressive  lessons  on  educa- 
tion, both  as  to  the  importance  and  the  mode  of  it, 
supplied  by  Mr. 's  family,  the  best  school  for  in- 


196  Foster's  thoughts. 

struction  on  this  subject  I  ever  saw.     In  that  family 
the  whole  system  and  all  the  paits  of  it  are  so  correct' 
ly  and  transccndently  bad,  that  it  is  only  necessary 
to  adopt  a  directly  opposite  plan  in  every  point  to  be 
exactly  right. 

I  suppose  it  never  occurs  to  parents  that  to  throw 
vilely-educated  young  people  on  the  world  is,  in- 
dependently of  the  injury  to  the  young  people  them- 
selves, a  positive  crime,  and  of  very  great  magnitude ; 
as  great  for  instance,  as  burning  their  neighbor's 
house,  or  poisoning  the  water  in  his  well.  In  point- 
ing out  to  them  what  is  wrong,  even  if  they  acknowl- 
edge the  justness  of  the  statement,  one  can  not  make 
them  feef  a  sense  oi  guilt,  as  in  other  proved  charges. 
That  they  love  their  childaen  extenuates  to  their  con- 
sciences every  parental  folly  that  may  at  last  produce 
in  the  children  every  desperate  vice. 

33.  Rules  for  early  religious  education. — Perhaps 
one  of  the  most  prudential  rules  respecting  the  en- 
forcement on  the  minds  of  children  of  the  conviction 
that  they  are  accountable  to  an  all-seeing  though  un- 
seen Governor,  and  liable  to  the  punishment  of  ob- 
stinate guilt  in  a  future  state,  is,  to  take  opportuni- 
ties  of  impressing  this  idea   the   most  cogently,  at 
seasons  when  the  children  are  not  lying  under  any 
blame  or  displeasure,  at  moments  of  serious  kindness 
on  the  part  of  the  parents,  and  serious  inquisitiveness 
on  the  part  of  the  children,  leaving  in  some  degree  the 
conviction  to  have  its  own  effect,  greater  or  less,  in 
each  particular  instance  of  guilt,  according  to  the 
greater  or  less  degree  of  aggravation  which  the  child's 
own  conscience  can  be  made  secretly  to  acknowledge 
in  that  guilt.     And  another  obvious  rule  will  be,  that 
when  he  is  to  be  solemnly  reminded  of  these  religious 
sanctions  and  dangers  in  immediate  connexion  with 
an  actual  instance  of  criminality  in  his  conduct,  the 
instance  should  be  one  of  the  most  serious  of  his  faults, 
that  will  bear  the  utmost  seriousness  of  such  an  ad- 


EDUCATION    OF    CHILDREN.  197 

monition.  As  to  how  early  in  life  this  doctrine  may 
be  communicated,  there  needs  no  more  precise  rule 
than  this  ;  that  it  may  be  as  early  as  well-instructed 
children  are  found  to  show  any  signs  of  prolonged 
or  returning  inquisitiveness  concerning  the  supreme 
cause  of  all  that  they  behold,  and  concerning  what 
becomes  of  persons  known  to  them  in  their  neighbor- 
hood, whom  they  find  passing,  one  after  another, 
through  the  change  called  death,  about  which  their 
curiosity  will  not  be  at  all  satisfied  by  merely  learn- 
ing its  name There  is  an  absolute  necessity  of 

presenting  these  ideas  in  a  correct  though  inadequate 
form  as  early  as  possible  to  the  mind,  to  prevent  their 
being  fixed  there  in  a  foiTu  that  shall  be  absurd  and 

injurious They  may  be  taught  to  apprehend  it 

as  an  awful  reality,  that  they  are  peipetually  under 
his  inspection  ;  and  as  a  certainty,  that  they  must  at 
length  appear  before  him  in  judgment,  and  find,  in 
another  life,  the  consequences  of  what  they  are  in 
spirit  and  conduct  here.  It  is  to  be  impressed  on 
them,  that  his  will  is  the  supreme  law ;  that  his  dec- 
larations are  the  most  momentous  truth  known  on 
earth  ;  and  his  favor  and  condemnation  the  gi-eatest 
good  and  evil. 

34.  Said  of  a  lady  who  infamously  spoilt  her  son — 
a  most  perverse  child. — She  will  have  her  reward  ; 
6he  cultivates  a  night-shade,  and  is  destined  to  eat  its 
poisoned  benies. 

35.  Apprehensions  of  parents  for  the  welfare  of 
their  children. — I  constantly  and  systematically  re- 
gard this  world  with  such  horror,  as  a  place  for  the 
nsing  human  beings  to  come  into,  that  it  is  an  em- 
phatical  satisfaction,  I  may  say  pleasure,  to  me  (ex- 
cept in  a  few  cases  of  rare  promise),  to  hear  of  their 
prematurely  leaving  it.  I  have  innumerable  times 
been  amazed  that  parents  should  not,  in  this  view,  be 
gi'eatly  consoled  in  their  loss.  Let  them  look  at  this 
world  !  with  sin,  temptations,  snares  of  the  devil,  bad 

17* 


198  Foster's  thoughts. 

examples,  seducincr  companions,  disasters,  vexations, 
dislioiiors,  and  afHictions,  all  over  it;  and  their  chil- 
dren to  enter  the  scene  with  a  radically  corrupt  na- 
ture, adapted  to  receive  the  mischief  of  all  its  worst 
influences  and  impressions  ;  let  them  look  at  all  this, 
and  then  say,  deliberately,  whether  it  be  not  well 
that  their  children  are  saved  these  dreadful  dang'crs  ! 
Let  them  behold  what  the  vast  majority  of  childi'en 
do  actually  become — have  actually  become,  in  ma- 
ture life;  many  of  them,  millions  of  them!  decided- 
ly bad  and  wretched,  and  causes  of  what  is  bad  and 
wretched  around  them  ;  and,  short  of  this  woi'st  event, 
an  im77iensc  majority  of  them  careless  of  religion,  sal- 
vation, eternity  !  T  repeat,  let  them  look  at  all  this, 
and  then  ask  themselves,  whether  it  be  not  a  vain 
presumption  that  exactly  their  children,  nay,  every 
parent  in  his  turn,  my  children,  ai"e  sui'e  to  be  ex- 
ceptions. 


FUAILTY    OF    T.IFE.  199 


CHAPTER  IX. 

HVMAX     LIFE  :     ITS     FRAILTY    AND     BREVITY FUTURE 

LIFE  :    ITS    MYSTERIES    AND    REVELATIONS PERSUA- 
SIVES   TO    A    CHRISTIAN    LIFE. 

1.  Reason  of  the  undue  influence  of  things  seen. — 
The  power  of  objects  to  interest  the  affections,  de- 
pends on  their  being  objects  of  sight.  The  affections 
often  seem  reluctant  to  admit  objects  to  their  inter- 
nal commnnion  except  throngh  the  avenues  of  the 
senses.  The  objects  must  be,  as  it  w^ere,  authenti- 
cated by  the  senses,  must  first  occupy  and  please  them 
— or  thej"^  are  regarded  by  the  inner  faculties  as  some- 
thing strange,  foreign,  out  of  our  sympathies,  or  un- 
real. .  .  .  The  objects  which  we  can  see,  give  a  more 
positive  and  direct  impression  of  reality;  there  can 
be  no  dubious  surmise  whether  they  exist  or  not ;  the 
sense  of  their  presence  is  more  absolute.  When  an 
object  is  seen  before  me,  or  beside  me,  I  am  instantly 
in  all  the  relations  of  being  present ;  I  can  not  feel 
and  act  as  if  no  such  object  were  there  ;  I  can  not  by 
an  act  of  my  mind  put  it  away  from  me Visi- 
ble objects,  when  they  have  been  seen,  can  be  clearly 
kept  in  mind  in  absence — during  long  periods — at 
the  Qfieatest  distance.  We  can  revert  to  the  time 
when  they  were  seen.  A/Ve  can  have  a  lively  image  ; 
seem  to  be  looking  at  it  still.  But  tlie  gieat  objects 
of  faith  having  never  been  seen,  the  mind  has  no  ex- 
press type  to  revert  to.  The  idea  of  thorn  is  to  be 
still  aeain  and  asrain  formed  anew  ;  fluctuates  and 
varies;  is  brighter  and  dimmer;  alternates  as  bn- 
tween  substance  and  shsidow. 


200 


Foster's  thouohts. 


2.  Intimations  of  the  transttorincss  of  life. — If  tho 
soul  would  expand  itself,  and  with  a  lively  sensibility 
to  receive  upon  it  the  significance,  the  glancing  inti- 
mation, the  whispered  monition  of  all  things  that  are 
ailapted  to  remind  it  of  the  fact — what  a  host  of  ideas 
would  strike  it !  Then  we  should  hardly  see  a  shadow 
pass,  or  a  vapor  rise,  or  a  flower  fade,  or  a  leaf  fall, 
still  less  a  human  visage  withered  in  age,  but  we 
should  have  a  thought  of  the  transient  continuance 
of  our  life. 

3.  Man  fades  as  a  leaf. — The  infinite  masses  of 
foliage,  which  unfolded  so  beautifully  in  vegetable 
life,  in  the  spring,  and  have  adorned  our  landscape 
during  the  summer,  have  faded,  fallen,  and  perished. 
We  have  beheld  the  "grace  of  the  fashion"  of  them 
disclosed,  continuing  awhile  bright  in  the  sunshine, 
and  gone  for  ever.  Now  we  are  admonished  not  to 
see  the  very  leaves  fade,  without  being  reminded  that 

something  else  K's,  also  fading Can  any  of  us  say 

they  have  had,  during  the  recent  season,  as  distinct 
and  prolonged  a  reflection  on  the  fact  that  our  own 
mortal  existence  is  fading,  as  we  have  had  a  percep- 
tion of  the  fading  and  extinction  of  vegetable  life  %  It 
would  seem  as  if  the  continued  pressure  of  ill  health, 
or  the  habitual  spectacle  of  sickness  and  decline  in 
our  friends,  were  necessary  in  order  to  keep  us  re- 
minded of  the  truth  which  is  expressed  in  the  text. 

4.  Man  fades  tohile  Nature  blooms. — Amid  this 
glowing  life  of  the  vernal  season,  there  are  languor, 
and  sickness,  and  infirm  old  age,  and  death  !  While 
Nature  smiles,  there  are  many  pale  countenances 
that  do  not.  Sometimes  you  have  met,  slowly  pacing 
the  green  meadow  or  the  garden,  a  figure  emaciated 
by  illness,  or  feeble  with  age ;  and  were  the  more 
forcibly  struck  by  the  spectacle  as  seen  amid  a  luxu- 
riance of  life.  For  a  moment,  you  have  felt  as  if  all 
the  living  beauty  faded  or  receded  from  around,  in 
the  shock  of  the  contrast.     You  may  have  gone  into 


I 


FRAILTY    OF    LIFE.  201 

a  house  beset  with  roses  and  all  the  pride  of  spring, 
to  see  a  person  lingering  and  sinking  in  the  last  fee- 
bleness of  mortality.  You  may  have  seen  a  funeral 
train  passing  through  a  flowery  avenue.  The  ground 
which  is  the  depository  of  the  dead,  bears,  not  the 
less  for  that,  its  share  of  the  beauty  of  spring.  The 
great  course  of  Nature  pays  no  regard  to  the  partic- 
ular cii'cumstances  of  man — no  suspension,  no  sym- 
pathy. 

5.  Win/er,  tliougli  denying  other  gifts,  yields  a 
grave. — Look  at  the  earth,  speaking  generally  !  look 
at  the  trees!  an  obdurate  negation — an  appearance 
of  having  ceased  to  be  for  us — under  a  mighty  inter- 
dict of  Heaven  !  We  might  nearly  as  well  go  to  the 
graves  of  the  dead  to  ask  for  sympathy  and  aid.  The 
ground  seems  not  willing  to  yield  us  anything  but  a 
grave ;  and  that  it  is  yielding  every  day  to  numbers 
to  whom  it  would  have  yielded  nothing  else  !  Stri- 
king consideration,  that  for  this  service  the  earth  is 
always  ready  !  How  many  graves  for  the  dying  it 
will  afford  during  these  months,  in  which  it  will  af- 
ford no  sustenance  to  the  living!  Would  it  not  be 
a  most  solemn  manifestation,  if,  in  the  living  crowd, 
we  could  discern  those  to  whom  the  earth,  the  ground, 
has  but  one  thing  more  to  supply  ? 

6.  Much  of  human  decay  not  visible. — The  most 
decayed  and  faded  portion  of  the  living  world  is 
much  less  in  sight  than  the  fresh  and  vigorous.  Think 
how  many  infirm,  sick,  debilitated,  languishing,  and 
almost  dying  persons  there  are,  that  are  rarely  or 
never  out  in  public  view — not  met  in  our  streets, 
roads,  or  places  of  resort — not  in  our  religious  as- 
semblies !  And  then  "out  of  sight,  out  of  mind,"  in 
a  great  degree !  Thus  we  look  at  the  living  world 
so  as  not  to  read  the  destiny  written  on  every  fore- 
head, and  in  this  thoughtlessness  are  the  more  apt  to 
forget  our  own. 

7.  Unperceived  succession  of  human  generations.^ 


202  Foster's  thoughts. 

Human  beings  are  continually  going  and  coming,  so 
that,  though  all  die,  man  in  his  vast  assemblage  is  al- 
ways here Tlie  order  of  the  world  is  that  men 

be  withdrawn  one  by  one,  one  here  and  one  theie, 
leaving  the  mighty  mass,  to  general  appearance,  still 
entire — except  in  the  case  of  vast  and  desolating  ca- 
lamities. Thus  we  see  nothing  parallel  to  the  gen- 
ei'al  autumnal  fading  of  the  leaf.  More  like  the  erer- 
greens,  which  lose  their  leaves  by  individuals,  and 
still  maintain  their  living  foliage — to  the  thoughtless 
spectator,  the  human  race  is  presented  under  such  a 
fallacious  appearance  as  if  it  always  lived. 

8.  Uncertain  continuance  of  life. — Life  is  expendi- 
ture :  we  have  it  but  as  continually  losing  it ;  we  have 
no  use  of  it,  but  as  continually  wasting  it.  Suppose 
a  man  confined  in  some  fortress,  under  the  doom  to 
stay  there  till  his  death  ;  and  suppose  there  is  there 
for  his  use  a  dark  reservoir  of  water,  to  which  it  is 
certain  none  can  ever  be  added.  He  knows,  sup- 
pose, that  the  quantity  is  not  very  great ;  he  can  not  J 
penetrate  to  ascertain  how  much,  but  it  may  be  very  I 
little.  He  has  drawn  from  it  by  means  of  a  fountain  i 
a  good  while  already,  and  draws  from  it  every  day; 
but  how  would  he  fed^  each  time  of  drawing,  and 
each  time  of  thinking  of  it  1  not  as  if  he  had  a  peren- 
nial spring  to  go  to  ;  not,  "  I  have  a  reservoir — I  may 
be  at  ease."  No  !  but,  "  I  had  water  yesterday ;  I 
have  water  to-day ;  but  my  having  had  it,  and  my 
having  it  to-day,  is  the  very  cause  that  I  shall  not  have 
it  on  some  day  that  is  approaching.  At  the  same 
time  I  am  compelled  to  this  fatal  expenditure  !"  So 
of  our  mortal,  transient  life  ! 

9.  The  records  of  time  are  anpliatically  the  history 
of  death. — A  whole  review  of  the  world,  from  this 
hour  to  the  age  of  Adam,  is  but  the  vision  of  an  infi- 
nite multitude  of  dying  men.  During  the  more  quiet 
intervals,  we  perceive  individuals  falling  into  the  dust, 
through  all  classes  and  all  lands.     Then  come  floods 


FRAILTY    OP    LIFE.  SOS 

and  confla Rations,  famine.^,  and  pestilence,  and  eaith- 
quakes.  ajid  battles,  which  leave  the  most  crowded 
and  social  scenes  silent.  The  human  race  resemble 
the  withered  foliac^e  of  a  wide  forest;  while  the  air 
is  calm,  we  perceive  single  leaves  scattering  here  and 
there  from  the  oranches ;  but  sometimes  a  tempest 
or  a  whirlwind  precipitates  thousands  in  a  moment. 
It  is  a  moderate  computation  which  supposes  a  hun- 
dred thousand  millions  to  have  died  since  the  exit  of 
riphteous  Abel.  Oh,  it  is  true  that  ruin  hath  entered 
the  creation  of  God  !  that  sin  has  made  a  breach  in 
that  innocence  which  fenced  man  round  with  immoi'- 
tality  !  and  even  now  the  great  spoiler  is  ravaging 
the  world.  As  mankind  have  still  sunk  into  the  dark 
gulf  of  the  past,  history  has  given  buoyancy  to  the 
most  wondei-ful  of  their  achievements  and  characters, 
and  caused  them  to  float  down  the  stream  of  time  to 
our  own  age.  ,  .  .  What  an  affecting  scene  is  a  dying 
world  !  Who  is  that  destroying  angel  whom  the  Eter- 
nal has  employed  to  sacrifice  all  our  devoted  race  1 
Advancing  onward  over  the  whole  field  of  time,  he 
hath  .smitten  the  successive  crowds  of  our  hosts  with 
death  ;  and  to  us  he  now  approaches  nigh.  Some  of 
our  friends  have  trembled,  and  sickened,  and  expired, 
at  the  signals  of  his  coming ;  already  we  hear  the 
thunder  of  his  wings:  soon  his  eye  of  fire  will  throw 
mortal  fainting  on  all  our  companies  ;  his  prodigious 
form  will  to  us  blot  out  the  siin,  and  his  sword  sweep 
us  all  from  the  earth  ;  '•  for  the  living  know  that  they 

shall  die." 

10.  Memorials  of  advancing  life. — It  is  not  the  be- 
ing aware  of  any  physical  or  mental  decline,  but  a 
remoteness  in  my  retrospects ;  the  disappearance  by 
death  of  so  many  of  my  elders,  and  even  coevals; 
the  dispersion  and  changed  condition  of  my  early 
companions ;  the  alteration  of  a  great  part  of  the 
economy  of  my  feelings ;  the  five  feet  ten  inches  alti- 
tude of  persons  whom  I  recollect  as  infants  when  I 


204  poster's  thoughts. 

first  reached  that  altitude ;  and  the  very  sound  and 
appearance  of  the  wordi  forty  (to  the  number  meant 
in  which  word  I  shall  soon  have  a  very  particular  re- 
lation)— these,  and  I  suppose  many  more  things,  con- 
cur to  make  me  feel  how  far  I  have  gone  already 
past  the  meridian  hour  of  the  short  day  of  life. 

11.  The  aged — presages  of  old  age. — Like  the  last 
few  faded  leaves,  lingering  and  fluttering  on  a  ti'ee. 

Let  them  think  what  they  feel  to  be  gone — 

freshness  of  life  ;  vernal  prime  ;  overflowing  spirits ; 
elastic,  bounding  vigor ;  insuppressible  activity ;  quick, 
ever- varying  emotion  ;  delightful  unfolding  of  the  fac- 
ulties; the  sense  of  more  and  more  power  of  both 
body  and  spirit;  the  prospect  as  if  life  were  entire 
before  them  ;  and  all  overspread  with  brightness  and 
fair  colors  !  .  .  .  ,  There  are  circumstances  that  will 
not  let  them  forget  whereabouts  they  are  in  life  ;  feel- 
ings of  positive  infirmity  ;  diminished  power  of  exer- 
tion; gray  hairs;  failure  of  sight;  besetting  pains; 
apprehensive  caution  against  harm  and  inconveni- 
ence ;  often  what  are  called  nervous  affections  ;  slight 
injuries  to  the  body  far  less  easily  repaired. 

12.  Old  age  the  safer  period  of  life. — And,  consid- 
ering our  age,  and  now  established  principles,  views, 
and  habits,  it  is  no  slight  satisfaction  to  hope  that  we 
are  now  passed  safe  beyond  the  most  unsteady,  haz- 
ardous, and  tempting  periods,  feelings,  and  scenes  of 
life.  Not  that  we  can  ever  be  safe  but  by  Divine 
preservation ;  but  still  it  is  no  trifling  advantage  that 
some  of  the  most  perr.:^.  i'-3  iunaences  of  a  bad  world 
have  necessarily,  as  to  us,  lost  very  much  of  their 
power. 

13.  Insensibility  to  mortal  destiny. — How  comes 
it  to  be  possible  that  men  can  see  the  partakers  of 
their  own  nature  and  dest'ny  v  ithering  and  falling 
from  the  tree  of  life,  and  c^.-nly  look  at  them  in  their 
fall  in  the  dust  with  hardly  one  pointed  reflection 
turned  on  themselves  !     As  if  the  careless  spectator 


PRAILTY    OF    LIFE,  205 

should  say,  "Well,  they  must  go!  there  is  no  help  for 
them !  unfortunate  lot !  but  it  is  nothing  to  me  ex- 
cept to  pity  them  for  a  moment,  and  be  glad  that  I 
am  under  no  such  disastrous  decree!"  So  little  is 
there  of  ominous  sympathy  felt,  while  men  see  neigh- 
bors, acquaintances,  friends,  relatives,  one  by  one 
fading,  falling,  and  vanishing. 

14.  Retrosj)cct  of  the  year. — We  have  been  con- 
suming our  years ;  we  have  very  nearly  expended 
another  ;  think  how  nearly  it  is  gone  from  us  !  Yon- 
der as  it  were  behind  is  the  long  lapse  of  it.  As  if 
we  stood  by  a  stream  bearing  various  things  upon  it 
away.  We  can  look  back  to  its  successive  times  and 
incidents,  as  what  we  were  present  to.  But  Omnipo- 
tence can  not  take  us  back  to  meet  again  its  com- 
mencement, or  any  portion  or  circumstance  of  it. 
We  are  present  now  to  one  of  its  latest  diminutive 
poitions,  which  Omnipotence  can  not  withhold  from 
following  the  departed.  We  are  occupying  it,  breath- 
ing in  it,  thinking  in  it,  for  nearly  the  last  time;  little 
more  of  it  is  remaining  than  time  enough  for  bidding 
it  a  solemn  and  reflective  farewell  !  A  few  hours 
more,  and  the  year  can  never  be  of  the  smallest  fur- 
ther use  to  us,  except  in  the  way  of  refection 

It  is  like  a  seed-time  gone,  and  the  tract  of  ground 
sunk  under  the  sea.  It  is  as  a  treasure-house  burnt; 
but  of  which,  nevertheless,  we  may  find  some  little 
of  the  gold  melted  into  a  different  foiTn  in  the  ashes. 
Let  us  then,  in  parting  with  the  year,  try  to  gain  from 
it  the  last  and  only  thing  it  can  give  us — some  profit 
by  means  of  our  thoughts  reaching  back  to  what  is 
gone. 

15.  Misimprovement  of  time. — Our  year  has  been 
parallel  to  that  of  those  persons  who  have  made  the 
noblest  use  of  it.  We  can  represent  to  ourselves  the 
course  of  the  most  devoted  servant  of  God  through 
this  past  year,  in  various  states,  and  modes  of  em- 
ployment.    Now  we  had  just  the  same  houi'S,  days, 

IS 


206  Foster's  thoughts. 

and  months,  as  they.  Let  the  comparison  be  made. 
Why  was  the  day,  the  week,  the  month,  of  less  value 
in  our  hands  than  in  theirs  %  Do  we  stand  for  ever 
dissociated  from  them  upon  this  year?  How  desira- 
ble that  we  may  be  associated  with  them  during  the 
next,  if  God  prolong  our  life !  .  .  .  .  And,  at  the  very 
times  when  we  were  heedlessly  letting  it  pass  by, 
throwing  it  away — there  were,  here  and  there,  men 
passionately  imploring  a  day — an  hour — a  few  mo- 
ments— more.  And  at  those  same  seasons  some 
men,  here  and  there,  were  most  diligently  and  earn- 
estly redeeming  and  improving  the  very  moments  we 
lost !  the  identical  moments — for  we  had  the  same, 
and  of  the  same  length  and  value.  Some  of  them 
are,  in  heaven  itself,  now  enjoying  the  consequences. 
Where  do  we  promise  ourselves  the  consequences 
of  those  portions  of  time  lost? 

16.  Precursors  of  approaching  death  unwelcome. — 
How  unwelcome  are  these  shortening  days  !  The 
precursory  intimations  of  winter  even  before  the  sum- 
mer itself  is  gone,  and  how  almost  frightfully  rapid 
the  vicissitudes  of  the  seasons,  telling  us  of  time,  the 
consumption  of  life,  the  approximation  to  its  end. 
That  end  ;  that  end  !  And  there  is  an  hour  decreed 
for  the  final  one.  It  will  be  here — it  will  be  past. 
And  then — that  other  life  !  that  other  world  !  Let  us 
pray  more  earnestly  than  ever,  that  the  first  hour 
after  the  last  may  open  upon  us  in  celestial  light. 

17.  Death  the  termination  of  a  journey . — The  idea 
of  his  moving  rapidly  on,  in  vigorous  life  to  a  certain 
spot,  to  one  precise  point,  and  on  coming  exactly 
thither,  being,  as  in  a  moment,  in  another  world, 
renders  the  mystery  of  death  still  more  intense.  And 
there  being  nothing  to  excite  the  slightest  anticipa- 
tion, when  he  set  out  on  the  journey,  when  he  came 
within  a  mile — within  a  few  steps  of  the  fatal  point! 
How  ti-ue  the  saying,  that  "  in  the  midst  of  life  we 
are  in  death !" 


FUTURE    LIFE. 


207 


18.  Mystery  of  the  change  of  death. — In  looking 
on  the  deserted  countenance,  through  which  mind 
and  thought  had  so  recently,  but,  as  it  were,  a  few 
minutes  before,  emanated,  I  felt  what  profound  mys- 
tery there  was  in  the  change.  What  is  it  that  is  gone  ? 
What  is  it  now  ] 

19.  WJiat  the  activity  of  the  future  state. — Very 
many  human  beings  have  within  our  knowledge  left 
this  scene  of  action.  We  can  recall  them  to  thought 
individually;  we  obsei-ved  their  actions.  How  have 
they  been  employed  since"?  The  triflers  how  1  The 
active  enemies  of  God  how  ]  The  servants  of  Christ 
how  1  We  can  not  veiy  formally  represent  to  our- 
selves how  ;  but  it  is  interesting  to  look  into  that 
solemn  obscurity — to  think  of  it.  Think  of  all  that 
have  done  all  the  works  under  the  sun  "ever  since 
that  luminary  began  to  shine  on  this  world — now  in 
action  in  some  other  regions!  Think  of  all  those 
whose  actions  we  have  beheld  and  judged — those 
recently  departed — our  own  personal  friends  !  Have 
they  not  a  scene  of  amazing  novelty  and  change; 
while  yet  there  is  a  relation,  a  connecting  quality 
between  their  actions  before  and  now The  dif- 
ference and  comparison  would  dilate  our  faculties  to 
the  intensest  wonder. 

20.  Revelations  of  eternity. — There  is  eteniity ; 
you  have  lived  perhaps  thirty  years ;  you  are  by  no 
means  entitled  to  expect  so  much  more  life  ;  you  at 
the  utmost  will  veiy^oon,  very  soon  die !  What  fol- 
lows ?  Eternity!  a  boundless  region;  inextinguish- 
able life;  myriads  of  mighty  and  strange  spirits; 
vision  of  God ;  glories,  hoiTors. 

21.  The  future  partially  revealed  or  wisely  veiled. 

We  here  "  know  but  in  part."     So  "  in  part,"  that 

just  the  part,  the  portion  which  we  wish  to  attain,  is 
divided  off  from  our  reach.  It  seems  as  if  a  dissever- 
ing principle,  or  a  dark  veil,  fell  down  exactly  at  the 
point  where  we  think  we  are  near  upon  the  knowl- 


r 


208  Foster's  thoughts. 

e^cre  we  are  pursuing.  We  reach  the  essential  ques- 
tion of  the  inquiiy;  let  that  be  surpassed  and  we 
should  arrive  at  the  truth — exult  in  the  knowledge. 
But  just  there  we  are  stopped  by  something  insuper- 
able ;   and  there  we  stand,  like  prisoners  looking  at 

their    imprefrnable    wall In  this  life  men   are 

placed  in  this  world's  relations,  a  system  of  relations 
corresponding  to  our  inhabiting  a  gross,  frail,  mortal 
body,  with  all  its  wants  and  circumstances — and  that 
we  have  to  perform  all  the  various  business  of  this 
world.  That  there  are  innumerable  thoughts,  cares, 
employments,  belonging  inseparably  to  this  our  state  ; 
and  that  therefore  there  must  not  be  such  a  mani- 
festation of  the  future  state  as  would  confound,  stop, 
and  break  up,  this  system. 

22,  FutM?-e  world  veiled. — "  How  gloomy  that  range 
of  lamps  looks  (at  some  distance  along  the  border  of 
a  common),  how  dark  it  is  all  around  them."  Yes, 
like  the  lights  that  are  disclosed  to  us  from  the  other 
world,  which  simply  tell  us,  that  there,  in  the  solemn 
distance,  where  they  burn  encircled  with  darkness, 
that  world  is,  but  shed  no  light  on  the  region. 

23.  Mjjsterij  of  man's  relations  to  the  future — his 
uncertain  progression. — Many  of  these  questions  are 
such  as,  being  pursued,  soon  lead  the  thinking  spirit 
to  the  brink,  as  it  were,  of  a  vast  unfathomable  gulf. 
It  is  arrested,  and  becomes  powerless  at  the  limit ; 
there  it  stands,  looking  on  a  dark  immensity  ;  the 
little  light  of  intellect  and  knowledge  which  it  brings 
or  kindles,  can  dart  no  ray  into  the  mysterious  ob- 
scurity. Sometimes  there  seems  to  be  seen,  at  some 
unmeasured  distance,  a  gUmmering  spot  of  light,  but 
it  makes  nothing  around  it  visible,  and  itself  vanishes. 

But  often  it  is  one  unbounded,  unvaried,  starless, 
midnight  darkness — without  one  luminous  point 
through  infinite  space.  To  this  obscurity  we  are 
brought  in  pursuing  any  one  of  very  many  questions 
of  mere  speculation  and  curiosity.     But  there  is  one 


FUTURE    LIFE. 


209 


question  which  combines  with  the  interest  of  specu- 
lation and  curiosity  an  interest  incomparably  greater, 
nearer,  more  affecting,  more  solemn.  It  is  the  sim- 
ple question — "  "What  shall  we  be  V  How  soon 
it  is  spoken  !  but  who  shall  reply  t  Think,  how  pro- 
foundly this  question,  this  mystery,  concerns  us — 
and  in  comparison  with  this,  what  are  to  us  all  ques- 
tions of  all  sciences  ?  What  to  us  all  researches  into 
the  constitution  and  laws  of  material  nature  1     What 

all   investigations  into  the  history   of  past  ages] 

What  to  us— the  future  career  of  events  in  the  prog- 
ress of  states  and  empires  ?  What  to  us— what  shall 
become  of  this  globe  itself,  or  all  the  mundane  sys- 
tem ?     What  WE  shall  be,  we  ourselves,  is  the  matter 

of  surpassing  and   infinite  interest I  that  am 

now,  that  am  here,  that  am  thus  ;   what  shall  I  be, 
and  w?iere,  and  how,  when  this  vast  system  of  na- 
ture shall   have  passed  away?     What— after  ages 
more  than  there  are  leaves  or  blades  of  grass  on  the 
whole  surface  of  the  globe  or  atoms  in  its  enormous 
mass  shall  have  expired  ?     What— after  another  such 
stupendous  lapse  of  duration  shall  be  gone  1     Those 
terms  of  amazing  remoteness  will  anive  ;  yes  those 
periods  the  very  thought  of  which  engulfs  our  facul- 
ties will  be  come  siud  will  he  past/  ....  To  ascertain, 
for  instance,  the  yet  unknown  course  of  a  great  river, 
has  excited  the  invincible  ardor  of  some  of  the  most 
enterprising  of  mortals — who,  in    long    succession, 
have  dared  all  perils,  and  sacrificed  their  lives.     To 
force  a  passage  among  unknown  seas  and  coasts,  in 
the  most  frowning  and  dreadful  regions  and  climates  ; 
to  penetrate  to  the  discovery  of  the  hidden  laws,  and 
powers,   and   relations  of  nature ;    to   ascertam  the 
laws,  the  courses,  the  magnitudes,  the  distances,  of 
the  heavenly  bodies  ;    something— is  the  truth,  in  all 
these   subjects   of  ambitious  and  intent    inquisition. 
But  what  if  all  this  could  be  known  ?     If  we  could 
have  the  entire  structure  of  this  globe  disclosed,  to 
18* 


210 


Foster's  thoughts. 


its  very  centre,  to  our  sight  or  intelligence  ;  if  through 
some  miraculous  intervention  of  Divine  power,  we 
could  have  a  vision  of  the  whole  economy  of  one  of 
the  remotest  stars;  or  if  our  intelligence  could  ])ass 
down,  under  a  prophetic  illumination,  to  the  ends  of 
time  in  this  world,  heholding,  in  continued  series,  the 
grand  course  of  the  world's  affairs  and  events  ;  what 
would  any  or  all  of  these  things  be,  in  comparison 
with  the  mighty  jjrospect  of  our  own  eternal  exist- 
ence ?  with  what  is  to  be  revealed  upon  us,  and  to  be 
realized  in  our  very  being,  and  experience,  through 
everlasting  duration  1 

24.  Irrejvessihle  longing  to  know  the  future. — But 
oh  !  my  dear  friend,  whither  is  it  that  you  are  going? 
Where  is  it  that  you  will  be  a  few  short  weeks  or 
days  hence.  I  have  affecling  cause  to  think  and  to 
wonder  concerning  that  unseen  world  ;  to  desire, 
were  it  permitted  to  mortals,  one  glimpse  of  that 
mysterious  economy,  to  ask  innumerable  questions  to 
which  there  is  no  answer — what  is  the  manner  of 
existence — of  employment — of  society — of  remem- 
brance— of  anticipation  of  all  the  surrounding  reve- 
lations to  our  departed  friends?  How  striking  to 
think,  that  sJie,  so  long  and  so  recently  with  me  here, 
so  beloved,  but  now  so  totally  withdrawn  and  absent, 
that  she  experimentally  knows  all  that  I  am  in  vain 
inquiring  ! 

25.  Trohlems  of  this  life  solved  iji  the  next. — One 
object  of  life  should  be  to  accumulate  a  great  numbei 
of  grand  questions  to  be  asked  and  resolved  in  eter 
nity.  We  now  ask  the  sage,  the  genius,  the  philoso- 
pher, the  divine — none  can  tell ;  but  we  will  open  our 
seviesto other  respondents — we  will  ask  angels — God. 

26.  Pagan  views  of  a  future  state  dim  and  inef- 
ficacious.— The  shadowy  notion  of  a  future  state 
which  hovered  about  the  minds  of  the  pagans,  a  vague 
apparition  which  alternately  came  and  vanished,  was 
at  once  too  fantastic  and  too  little  of  a  serious  belief 


I 


FUTIJRE    LIFE. 


211 


t:>  be  of  any  avail  to  preserve  the  rectitude,  or  to 
maintain  the  authority,  of  the  distinction  between 
riq^ht  and  wrong.  It  was  not  defined  enough,  or  no- 
ble enough,  or  convincing  enough,  or  of  indicia!  ap- 
plication enough,  either  to  assist  the  efficacy  of  such 
moral  principles  as  might  be  supposed  to  be  innate 
in  a  rational  creature,  and  competent  for  prescribing 
to  it  some  virtues  useful  and  necessary  to  it  even  if 
its  present  brief  existence  were  all  ;  or  to  enjoin  ef- 
fectually those  higher  virtues  to  which  thei'e  can  be 
no  adequate  inducement  but  in  the  expectation  of  a 
future  life. 

Imagine,  if  you  can,  the  withdrawment  of  this  doc- 
trine from  the  faith  of  those  who  have  a  solemn  per- 
suasion of  it  as  a  part  of  revealed  truth.  Suppose 
the  grand  idea  either  wholly  obliterated,  or  faded 
into  a  dubious  ti-ace  of  what  it  had  been,  or  trans- 
muted into  a  poetic  dream  of  classic  or  barbarian 
mythology — and  how  many  moral  principles  would 
be  found  to  have  vanished  with  it,  would  necessarily 
break  up  the  government  over  his  conscience. 

27.  The  offences  of  some  elegant  writers,  in  con- 
founding the  Christianas  with  the  pagan^s  triumph 
over  death. — AVhat  is  the  Christian  belief  of  that  poet 
worth,  who  would  not,  on  reflection,  feel  self-re- 
proach for  the  affecting  scene,  which  has,  for  a  while, 
made  each  of  his  readers  rather  wish  to  die  with 
Socrates,  or  with  Cato,  than  with  St.  John  1  What 
would  have  been  thought  of  the  pupil  of  an  apostle, 
who,  after  hearing  his  master  describe  the  spirit  of  a 
Christian's  departure  from  the  world,  in  language 
which  he  believed  to  be  of  conclusive  authority,  and 
which  asserted  or  clearly  implied  that  this  alone  was 
greatness  in  death,  should  have  taken  the  first  occa- 
sion to  expatiate  with  enthusiasm  on  the  closing  scene 
of  a  philosopher,  or  on  the  exit  of  a  stern  hero,  that, 
acknowledging  in  the  visible  world  no  object  for 
either  confidence  or  fear,  djnarted  with  the  aspect 


212  Foster's  thoughts. 

of  a  being  who  was  going  to  summon  his  gods  to 
judgment  for  the  misfortunes  of  his  hfe  1  And  how 
will  these  careless  men  of  genius  give  their  account 
to  the  Judge  of  the  world,  for  having  virtually  taught 
many  aspiring  minds  tliat,  notwithstanding  his  first 
coming  was  to  conquer  for  man  the  king  of  terrors, 
there  needs  no  recollection  of  him,  in  order  to  look 
toward  death  with  noble  defiance  or  sublime  desire  ? 

28.  Vague  notions  of  keavefi. — The  martial  va- 
grants of  Scandinavia  glowed  with  the  vivid  anticipa- 
tions of  Valhalla;  the  savages  of  the  western  conti- 
nent had  their  animating  visions  of  the  "  land  of 
souls;"  the  modern  Christian  barbarians  of  England, 
who  also  expect  to  live  after  death,  do  not  know  what 
they  mean  by  their  phrase  of  "going  to  heaven." 

29.  Grand  deliverance  of  death. — How  obvious  is 
it,  too,  that  there  must  be  a  change,  like  that  accom- 
plished through  death,  in  order  to  the  enlargement 
of  our  faculties,  to  the  extension  of  the  sphere  of  their 
never-remitting,  never-tiring  exertion,  to  their  enjoy- 
ing a  vivid  perception  of  truth,  in  a  continually  ex- 
panding manifestation  of  it,  and  to  their  entering, 
sensibly  and  intimately,  into  happier  and  more  ex- 
ulted society  than  any  that  can  exist  on  earth.  Some- 
times, while  you  are  thinking  of  that  world  unseen 
which  is  now  an  object  of  your  faith,  but  may  soon 
be  disclosed  to  you  in  its  wondrous  reality,  it  will 
occur  to  you,  how  many  most  interesting  inquiries 
to  which  there  is  here  no  reply,  will,  to  you,  be 
changed  into  knowledge!  how  many  things  will  be 
displayed  to  your  clear  and  delighted  apprehension, 
which  the  most  powerful  intellect,  while  yet  confined 
in  the  body,  conjectures  and  inquiries  after  in  vain. 
What  a  mighty  scene  of  knowledge  and  felicity  there 
is,  which  it  is  necessary  to  die  in  order  to  enter  into! 
Yes,  to  be  fully,  sublimely,  unchangeably  happy,  it 
is  necessary  to  die.  For  the  soul  to  be  redeemed  to 
liberty  and  purity — to  rise  from  darkness  to  the  great 


FUTURE    LIFE.  213 

vision  of  tiTith — to  be  resumed  into  the  presence  of 
its  Divine  Original — to  enter  into  the  communion  of 
the  Mediator  of  the  new  testament  and  of  the  spirits 
of  the  just,  it  is  necessary  to  die  ! 

30.  Death  the  socereign  remedy  for  all  ivfirmitles. 
— It  often  occurs  to  meditative  thought,  what  an  in- 
stant cure  it  will  be  for  all  the  disorders  at  once,  when 
the  fi'ame  itself  is  laid  down,  and  the  immortal  inhab- 
tant,  abandoning  it,  will  care  no  more  about  it;  will 
seem  to  say,  "  Take  all  thy  diseases  with  thee  now 
into  the  dust;  they  and  thou  concern  me  no  more." 

31.  State  of  the  righteous  in  heaven  to  be  desired. 
— The  consequence  would  be  that  all  things  affecting 
the  soul,  in  the  way  of  attracting  it,  would  affect  it 
right.  Nothinsr  would  attract  it  which  ous^ht  not; 
it  would  be  in  repidsion  to  all  evil ;  and  those  things 
which  did  attract,  and  justly  might,  would  do  so  in 
the  right  degrees  and  proportion  so  far,  and  no  fur- 
ther; with  so  much  force,  and  no  more;  and  with  an 
unlimited  force  that  alone  which  is  the  supreme  good. 
What  a  glorious  condition  this  !  And  this  inust  be 
the  state  of  good  men  in  a  future  world,  else  there 
would  be  temptation,  trial,  hazard,  and  the  possibility 

of  falling How  marvellous  and   how  lamanta- 

ble,  that  the  soul  can  consent  to  stay  in  the  dust,  when 
invited  above  the  stars  ;  having  in  its  own  experience 
the  demonstration  that  this  is  not  its  world  ;  knowing 
that  even  if  it  were,  the  possession  will  soon  cease ; 
and  having  a  glorious  revelation  and  a  continual  loud 
call  from  above  !  .  .  .  .  Happy !  considering  that  to 
those  higher  things  we  are  in  a  constant,  peimanent 
relation ;  whereas  our  relation  to  the  terrestrial  is 
varying  and  transient.  Reflect,  how  many  things 
on  the  earth  we  have  been  in  relation  to,  but  are  no 
longer,  and  shall  be  no  more.  Happy  !  becauee  a 
right  state  of  the  affections  toward  the  superior  ob- 
jects, is  the  sole  secuiity  for  our  having  the  greatest 
benefit  of  those  on  earth.     For  that  which  is  the  best 


214  Foster's  thoughts.  j    ^_, 

in  the  inferior,  is  exactly  that  which  may  contribute  '^^ 

to  the  higher;  and  that  will  never  be  found  but  by 
him  who  is  intent  on  the  higher.  Happy  !  because 
every  step  of  the  progress  which  we  must  make  in 
leaving  the  one,  is  an  advance  toward  a  blessed  and 
eternal  conjunction  with  the  other.  Then,  that  cir- 
cumstance of  transcendent  happiness,  that  in  the  su- 
perior state  of  good  men  there  will  be  no  contrary 
attractions,  no  diverse  and  opposed  relations  to  put 
their  choice  and  their  souls  in  difficulty  or  peril ! 

32.  Future  greatness  of  man. — Futurity  is  the 
greatness  of  man,  and  that  hereafter  is  the  grand  scene 
for  the  attainment  of  the  fullness  of  his  existence. 
"When  depressed  and  mortified  by  a  conscious  little- 
ness of  being,  yet  feeling  emotions  and  intimations 
which  seem  to  signify  that  he  should  not  be  little,  he 
may  look  to  futurity  and  exclaim,  "I  shall  be  great 
yonder!"  When  feeling  how  little  belongs  to  him, 
how  diminutive  and  poor  his  sphere  of  possession 
here,  he  may  say,  "  The  immense  futurity  is  mine  !" 
Looking  at  man,  we  seem  to  see  a  vast  collection  of 
little  beginnings — attempts — failures — like  a  plan- 
tation on  a  bleak  and  blasted  heath.  And  the 
progress  in  whatever  is  valuable  and  noble,  whether 
in  individuals  or  communities,  is  so  miserably  diffi- 
cult and  slow.  So  that  "  the  perfectibility  of  man," 
in  the  sense  in  which  that  phrase  has  been  employed, 
stands  justly  ridiculed  as  one  of  the  follies  of  philo- 
sophic romance.  Then  how  delightful  it  is  to  see 
revelation  itself,  pronouncing  as  possible,  and  pre- 
dicting as  to  come,  something  "  perfect"  in  the  con- 
dition of  man  ! 

33.  Lofty  aspirations  for  the  future  life. — I  have 
been  reading  some  of  Milton's  amazing  descriptions 
of  spirits,  of  their  manner  of  life,  their  powers,  their 
boundless  liberty,  and  the  scenes  which  they  inhabit 
or  traverse  ;  and  my  wonted  enthusiasm  kindled  high. 
I  almost  wished  for  death  ;  and  wondered  with  great 


Wi: 


FUTURE    LIFE.  215 

admiration  what  that  life  and  what  tnose  strange  re- 
gions really  are,  into  which  death  will  turn  the  spii-it 
free  !  I  can  not  wonder,  and  I  can  easily  pardon, 
that  this  intense  and  sublime  curiosity  has  sometimes 
demolished  the  corporeal  prison,  by  flinging  it  from 
a  precipice,  or  into  the  sea.  Milton's  description  of 
Uriel  and  the  Sun  revived  the  idea  which  I  have  be- 
foi-e  indulged  as  an  imagination  of  sublime  luxury, 
of  committing  myself  to  the  liquid  element  (suppo- 
sing some  part  of  the  sun  a  liquid  fire),  of  rising  on 
its  swells,  flashing  amid  its  surges,  darting  upwaid  a 
thousand  leagues  on  the  spiry  point  of  a  flame,  and 
then  falling  again  fearless  into  the  fervent  ocean. 
Oh,  what  is  it  to  be  dead  ;  what  is  it  to  shoot  into  the 
expansion,  and  kindle  into  the  ardors  of  eternity; 
what  is  it  to  associate  with  resplendent  angels  ! 

34.  Sorrows  of  this  compensated  by  the  joys  of  the 
future  Ife. — Remember,  my  friend,  what  a  sublime 
compensation  He  is  able  to  make  you  for  all  these 
troubles,  and  often  read  and  muse  on  those  promises 
in  which  he  has  engaged  to  make  you  eternally  hap- 
pier for  the  present  pains.  Think  how  completely 
all  the  griefs  of  this  mortal  life  will  be  compensated 
by  one  age,  for  instance,  of  the  felicities  beyond  the 
grave,  and  then  think  that  one  age  multiplied  ten 
thousand  times,  is  not  so  much  to  eternity  as  one 
grain  of  sand  is  to  the  whole  material  universe. 
Think  what  a  state  it  will  be  to  be  growing  happier 
and  happier  still  as  ages  pass  away,  and  yet  leave 
something  still  liappier  to  come  ! 

35.  GontemjpJation  of  the  departed  righteous. — You 
can  thus  regard  her  as  having  passed  beyond  the  very 
last  of  the  pains  and  sorrows  appointed  to  her  exist- 
ence by  her  Creator,  as  looking  back  on  them  all, 
and  having  entered  on  an  eternity  of  unmingled  joy  ; 
as  having  completed  a  short  education  for  a  higher 
sphere  and  a  nobler  society  ;  as  having  attained  since 
6l,e  was  your  companion,  and  by  the  act  of  ceasing 


i 


216  Foster's   thoughts. 

to  be  so,  that  in  comparison  with  which  the  whole 
sublunary  world  is  a  trifle  ;  as  having  left  your  abode 
because  her  presence  was  required  among  the  blessed 
and  exalted  servants  of  the  supreme  Lord  in  heaven. 

36.  Death  the  exchange  of  the  earthly  for  the  heav- 
enly treasure. — "  Paid  the  debt  of  nature."  No  ;  it 
is  not  paying  a  debt — it  is  rather  like  bringing  a  note 
to  a  bank  to  obtain  solid  gold  in  exchange  for  it.  In 
this  case  you  bring  this  cumbrous  body,  which  is  noth- 
ing worth,  and  which  you  could  not  wish  to  retain 
long ;  you  lay  it  down,  and  receive  for  it  from  the 
eternal  treasures — liberty,  victory,  knowledge,  rap- 
ture. 

37.  Premonitions  of  mortal  dissolution  welcomed. — 
Indeed,  I  would  regard  as  something  better  than  en- 
emies, the  visitations  that  give  a  strong  warning  of 
the  final  and  not  remote  beating  down  and  demoli- 
tion of  the  whole  frail  tabernacle.  A  salutary  im- 
pression made  on  the  soul,  even  through  a  wound  of 
the  body,  is  a  good  greatly  more  than  compensating 
the  evil.  In  the  last  great  account  no  doubt  a  vast 
number  of  happy  spirits  will  have  to  ascribe  that  hap- 
piness to  the  evils  inflicted  on  their  bodies,  as  the  im- 
mediate instrumental  cause. 

38.  Joyous  anticipation  of  the  heavenly  state. — Let 
us  gratefully  hail  the  gleams  that  come  to  us  from  a 
better  world,  through  the  gloom  of  declining  age, 
which  is  beginning  to  darken  before  us,  and  give  all 
diligence  to  the  preparation  for  passing  the  shades 
of  death,  confident  in  the  all-sufficiency  of  Him  who 
died  for  us,  to  emerge  into  the  bright  economy  and 
the  happy  society  beyond. 

39.  The  aged  believer  approaching  a  future  life. — 
An  aged  Christian  is  soothed  by  the  assurance  that 
his  Almighty  Friend  will  not  despise  the  enfeebled 
exertions,  nor  desert  the  oppressed  and  fainting  weak- 
ness, of  the  last  stage  of  his  servant's  life.  When 
advancing  into  the  shade  of  death  itself,  he  is  anima- 


PERSUASIVES    TO    A    RELIGIOUS    LIFE.  217 

ted  by  the  faith  that  the  great  sacrifice  has  taken  the 
malignity  of  death  away;  and  that  the  Divine  pres- 
ence will  attend  the  dark  steps  of  this  last  and  lonely 
enterprise,  and  show  the  dying  traveller  and  combat- 
ant with  evil  that  even  this  melancholy  gloom  is  the 
very  confine  of  paradise,  the  immediate  access  to  the 
region  of  eternal  life. 

40.  Regrets  of  converted  old  age. — When  the  sun 
thus  breaks  out  toward  the  close  of  his  gloomy  day, 
and  when,  in  the  energy  of  his  new  life,  he  puts  forth 
the  best  efforts  of  his  untaught  spirit  for  a  little  divine 
knowledge,  to  be  a  lamp  to  him  in  entering  ere  lono- 
the  shades  of  death,  with  what  bitter  regret  he  looks 
back  to  the  period  when  a  number  of  human  beino-s, 
some  perhaps  still  with  him,  some  now  scattered  from 
him,  and  here  and  there  pursuing  their  separate 
courses  in  careless  ignorance,  were  growing  up  un- 
der his  roof,  within  his  charge,  but  in  utter  estrantre- 
ment  from  all  discipline  adapted  to  insure  a  happier 
sequel !  His  distressing  reflection  is  often  represent- 
ing to  him  what  they  might  now  have  been  if  they  had 
grown  up  under  such  discipline.  And  gladly  would 
he  lay  down  his  life  to  redeem  for  them  but  some 
inferior  share  of  what  the  season  for  imparting  to 
them  is  gone  for  ever. 

41.  Death  of  the  righteous  and  the  wiched  contrast- 
ed.— It  is  well;  but  if,  sweeping  aside  the  pomp  and 
deception  of  life,  we  could  draw  fi'om  the  last  hours 
and  death-beds  of  our  ancestors  all  the  illuminations, 
convictions,  and  uncontrollable  emotions,  with  which 
they  have  quitted  it,  what  a  far  more  affecting  history 
of  man  should  we  possess  !  Behold  all  the  gloomy 
apartments  opening,  in  which  the  wicked  have  died  ; 
contemplate  first  the  tiiumph  of  iniquity,  and  here 
behold  their  close ;  witness  the  terrific  faith,  the  too 
late  repentance,  the  prayers  suffocated  by  despair 
and  the  mortal  agonies  !  These  once  they  would  not 
believe;  they  refused  to  consider  them;  they  could 

19 


218 


poster's  thoughts. 


not  allow  that  the  career  of  crime  and  pleasure  was 
to  end.  But  now  truth,  like  a  blazing  star,  darts 
over  the  mind,  and  but  shows  the  way  to  that  "  dark- 
ness visible"  which  no  light  can  cheer.  "  Dying 
wretch  !"  we  say  in  imagination  to  each  of  these,  "  is 
religion  true  ?  Do  you  believe  in  a  God,  and  anoth- 
er life,  and  a  retribution  1" — "  Oh  yes !"  he  answers, 
and  expires.  But  "the  righteous  hath  hope  in  his 
death."  Contemplate  through  the  unnumbered  saints 
that  have  died,  the  soul,  the  true  and  inextinguisha- 
ble life  of  man,  charmed  away  from  this  globe  by  ce- 
lestial music,  and  already  respiring  the  gales  of  eter- 
nity !  If  we  could  assemble  in  one  view  all  the  ado- 
ring addresses  to  the  Deity,  all  the  declarations  of 
faith  in  Jesus,  all  the  gratulations  of  conscience,  all 
the  admonitions  and  benedictions  to  weeping  friends, 
and  all  the  gleams  of  opening  glory,  our  souls  would 
burn  with  the  sentiment  which  made  the  wicked  Ba- 
laam devout,  and  exclaim,  "  Let  me  die  the  death  of 
the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  like  his."  These 
revelations  of  death  would  be  the  most  emphatic  com- 
mentary on  the  revelation  of  God. 

42.  Wit/iout  God  in  the  tvorld. — "  Without  God  in 
the  world."  Think  what  a  description,  and  applica- 
ble to  individuals  without  number!  If  it  had  been 
"  without  friend.s — without  food — without  shelter" — 
that  would  have  had  a  gloomy  sound  ;  but,  ''without 
God  .'"  without  him  ! — that  is,  in  no  happy  relation 
to  him  who  is  the  very  origin,  support,  and  life,  of 
all  things ;  without  him  who  can  make  good  flov/  to 
his  creatures  from  an  infinity  of  sources  ;  without  him 
whose  favor  possessed  is  the  best,  the  sublimest  of 
all  delights,  all  triumphs,  all  glories  ;  without  him 
who  can  confer  an  eternal  felicity ;  without  him,  too, 
in  a  world  where  the  human  creature  knows  there  is 
a  mighty  and  continual  conspiracy  against  his  welfare. 
What  do  those,  who  are  under  so  sad  a  destitution, 
value  and  seek  instead  ?     But  what  will  anything  or 


PERSUASIVES    ro    A    RELIGIOUS    LIFE.  219 

all  things  be  worth  in  his  absence  ?  .  .  .  .  "We  need 
not  dwell  on  that  condition  of  humanity  in  which 
there  is  no  notion  of  Deity  at  all — llie  condition  of 
some  outcast  savage  tribes.  The  spirit  with  nothing 
to  go  out  to,  beyond  its  clay  walls,  but  the  immedi- 
ately surrounding  elements,  and  other  creatures  of 
the  same  order.  .  .  .  That  relation  constitutes  the  law 
of  good  and  evil,  and  fixes  an  awful  sanction  on  the 
difference.  In  an  endless  series  of  things — that  there 
is  such  a  Being,  und  that  I  belong  to  him,  is  a  reason 
for  one  thing,  and  against  another.  The  thought  of 
him  is  to  be  associated  with  all  these  things,  and  its 
influence  to  be  predominant.  "  Thus — and  thus — 7 
think — and  wish — and  will — and  act — hecausc  thert 
is  a  God."  Now  for  me  to  forget  or  disregard  all 
this,  is  to  remove  myself,  as  far  as  I  can,  from  God  ; 
to  cause,  as  far  as  I  am  able,  that  to  me  there  is  no 

God To  be  insensible  to  the  Divine  character 

as  lawgiver,  rightful  authority,  and  judge,  is  truly  to 
be  "  without  God  in  the  world."  For  tlius  every  ac- 
tion of  the  soul  and  the  life  assumes  that  he  is  absent, 
or  not  exists.  .  .  .  Without  him  as  a  friend,  approver, 
and  pati-on ;  no  devout,  ennobling  converse  with  him  ; 
no  conscious  reception  of  delightful  impressions,  sa- 
cred influences,  suggested  sentiments ;  no  pouring 
out  of  the  soul  in  fervent  desires  for  his  illuminations, 
his  compassions,  his  forgiveness,  his  ti-ansforming  op- 
erations ;  no  earnest  penitential,  hopeful  pleading  in 
the  name  of  the  Great  Intercessor;  no  solemn,  affec- 
tionate dedication  of  the  whole  being Consider 

the  loneliness  of  a  human  soul  in  this  destitution.  All 
other  beings  are  necessarily  (shall  we  express  it  so  1) 
extraneous  to  the  soul ;  they  may  communicate  with 
it,  but  they  are  still  separate  and  without  it ;  an  in- 
termediate vacancy  keeps  them  for  ever  asunder,  so 
that  the  soul  must  be,  in  a  sense,  in  an  insupportable 
and  eternal  solitude — that  is,  as  to  all  creatures. 
43.    'Presumption  of  delay  for  Divine  influences. — 


220  Foster's  thoughts. 

When  a  mariner  suffers  a  long,  dead  calm  on  the 
ocean,  how  oft  he  looks  up  at  the  sails,  and  says, 
"  Oh,  if  the  winds  would  but  blow !"  Now  there 
may  be  persons  who  will  aver  that  the  thoughtful 
man  can  do  no  more  respecting  his  motives  than  the 
mariner  respecting  the  winds.  We  must  think  dif- 
ferently. ...  Or  shall  he  wait  quietly  to  see  whether 
the  good  motives  will  grow  stronger  of  themselves  1 
— as  we  may  look  at  a  stream,  and  know  that  when 
the  rain  comes,  it  will  be  swollen  to  a  ton-ent ;  as  we 
may  let  trees  alone,  and  see  how  they  will  enlarge. 
Alas  !  have  his  good  motives  grown  while  he  has  thus 
waited  1 

44.  Approving  the  good,  hut  pursuing  the  wrong. — 
Astonishing  fact,  that  all  that  mankind  acknowledge 
the  greatest,  they  care  about  the  least — as  first,  on 
the  summit  of  all  greatness  the  Deity  !  'Tis  acknowl- 
edged he  reigns  over  all,  is  present  always  here,  pre- 
vails in  each  atom  and  each  star,  observes  us  as  an 
awful  Judge,  claims  infinite  regard,  is  supremely  good 
— what  then  ?  why,  think  nothing  at  all  about  him  ! 

45.  Indifference  to  offers  of  salvation. — Here,  now, 
the  inestimable  gifts  of  religion  are  carried  round  to 
four  hundred  people  (the  congregation) :  if  it  could 
be  made  visible,  how  many  take  them,  and  what  part 
of  them,  and  how  much,  and  how  many  let  them  pass 
by,  and  rvhy  ? 

46.  TJnproJited  by  the  gospel. — Hearing  an  excel- 
lent sermon — most  monstrous  truth,  that  this  sermon, 
composed  of  perhaps  two  hundred  just  thoughts,  will, 
by  the  evening  hour,  be  forgotten  by  all  the  hearers 
except — how  manyl  Yet  every  just  thought  of  re- 
ligion requires  its  counterpart  in  feeling  and  action, 
or  does  it  7iot  ? 

47.  Indecision  is  decision. — Let  us  beware  of  the 
delusive  feeling  as  if  indifference,  however  prolonged, 
had  still  nothing  in  it  of  the  nature  of  a  decision  ;  as 
if  il  were  but  remaining  in  a  kind  of  suspension  and 


PERSUASIVES    TO    A    RELIGIOUS    LIFE.  221 

protracted  equipoise.  Are  we  insensible  that  an  addi- 
tional weight  is  falling- all  the  while  on  the  other  side, 
by  mere  time  itself  which  is  going,  particle  by  parti- 
cle, to  the  wrong  ;  by  irreligious  habit,  which  is  grow- 
ing stronger  and  stronger  ;  and  by  negation,  refusal, 
all  the  while,  of  what  is  claimed  by  the  higher  inter- 
est!  We  decide  against  tliat  which  we  refuse  to 
adopt :  so  that  prolonged  indifference  is  decision  so 
far;  and  indifference  to  the  end  will  but  be  decision 
completed  ! 

48.  WitJiout  God. — Dreadful  want,  if,  by  some 
vast  enlargement  of  thought,  you  could  comprehend 
the  whole  measure  and  depth  of  disaster  contained 
in  this  exclusion  (an  exclusion  under  which,  to  the 
view  of  a  serious  mind,  the  resources  and  magnifi- 
cence of  the  creation  would  sink  into  a  mass  of  dust 
and  ashes,  and  all  the  causes  of  joy  and  hope  into 
disgust  and  despair),  you  would  feel  a  distressing 
emotion  at  each  recital  of  a  life  in  which  religion  had 
no  share ;  and  you  would  be  tempted  to  wish  that 
some  spirit  from  the  other  world,  possessed  of  elo- 
quence that  might  threaten  to  alarm  the  slumbers  of 
the  dead,  would  throw  himself  in  the  way  of  this  one 
mortal,  and  tliis  one  more,  to  protest,  in  sentences  of 
lightning  and  thunder,  against  the  infatuation  that 
can  at  once  acknowledge  there  is  a  God,  and  be  con- 
tent to  forego  every  connexion  with  him,  but  that  of 
danger. 

49.  Meet  death  alone. — And  it  is  you,  you  yourself, 
that  bear  the  oppressive  weight.  Friends  sympa- 
thize ;  but  are  often  reminded  how  far  their  sympa- 
thy is  from  an  actual  identity  with  the  feelings  of  the 
sufferer.  She  bears  alone  the  languor,  and  pain,  and 
agitation,  of  the  falling  tabernacle.  I  was  most  for- 
cibly and  pensively  struck  with  this  thought  in  seeing 
you  last  Tuesday,  and  still  more  deeply  in  reflection 
afterward.  I  can  not  express  how  affectingly  the 
idea  dwelt  on  my  mind.  "  How  solitary  a  thing  is  the 

19* 


222  Foster's  thoughts. 

f;ital  process  !"  The  friends  who  are  habitually  near 
her,  or  who  see  her  at  considerable  intervals,  are 
deeply  interested  in  the  suffering  of  their  young  friend, 
but  they  are  not  as  she  is — they  can  not  place  them- 
selves in  jierfcct  community,  can  not  take  a  real  share 
in  that  which  presses  on  her — can  not  remove  any 
part  of  it  from  her.  It  is  her  own  individual  self, 
still,  that  feels  the  sinking  of  nature,  that  breathes 
with  labor,  that  is  foi-ced  to  painful  efforts,  by  day 
and  night,  to  relieve  the  vital  organs.  And  it  is  in 
her  own  sole  person  that  she  is  approaching  to  the 
last  act  of  life. 

50.  Danger  of  procrastination. — How  dangerous 
to  defer  those  momentous  reforraatiims  which  con- 
science is  solemnly  preaching  to  the  heart !  If  they 
are  neglected,  the  difficulty  and  indisposition  are  in- 
creasing: every  month.  The  mind  is  recedinsr,  deo;ree 
after  degree,  from  the  warm  and  hopeful  zone  ;  till, 
at  last,  it  will  enter  the  arctic  circle,  and  become  fixed 
in  relentless  and  eternal  ice  ! 

51.  Persuasion  to  religious  consideration. — Can  the 
voice  of  the  kindest  human  friend,  or  the  voice  from 
Heaven  itself,  express  to  you  a  kinder  or  wiser  sen- 
tence, than  that  you  should  apply  yourself  with  all 
earnestness  to  secure  the  true  felicity — the  only  real 
and  substantial  felicity  on  earth,  supposing  your  life 
should  be  prolonged — the  supreme  felicity  of  a  bet- 
ter world,  if  the  sovereign  Disposer  has  appointed 
that  your  life  shall  be  short  1  Do  not  allow  your 
thoughts  to  recoil  from  the  subject  as  too  solemn, 
too  gloomy  a  one.  If  it  were  the  gloomiest  in  the 
world,  if  it  were  nothing  but  gloomy,  it  is  yet  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  be  admitted,  and  dwelt  upon  in  all 
its  importance.  What  would  be  gained,  niy  dear 
John,  and  oh,  what  may  be  lost,  by  avoiding  it,  turn- 
ing the  thoughts  from  it,  and  trying  not  to  look  at  it ! 
Will  the  not  thinkinsr  of  it  make  it  cease  to  be  ur- 
gently  and  infinitely  important  1     Will  the  declining 


PERSUASIVES    TO    A    nnLIGIOUS    LIFE.  223 

to  think  of  it  secure  the  safety  of  the  momentous  in- 
terests involved  in  it? 

52.  Presumption  of  erpcctlng more  efficacwusmeana 
of  salvation. — But  have  no  such  visitations  come  to 
you  aheady  ?  What  was  their  effect]  Are  you  to 
be  so  much  more  sensible  to  the  impressions  of  the 
next  ?  or  do  you  wish  them  to  be  tenfold  more  se- 
vere 1  If  you  can  wish  so,  the  interest  for  which  you 
wish  so  must  be  most  urgent.  But  if  it  he  so  urgent, 
why  neglected  noic  ?  Consider,  besides,  that  the  next 
severe  visitation  may  be  the  last  of  life — may  be  a 
fatal  (lisastci- — may  be  a  mortal  illness  !  Or  would 
you  wait  for  old  age  ?  What !  because  it  is  confes- 
sedly a  oreat  moral  miracle  for  a  man  careless  till  old 
age.'to  be  awakened  then  !  Or  will  a  man  profane  a 
Chiistian  doctrine,  and  say,  the  Spirit  of  God  alone 
can  be  efficacious,  and  he  must  quietly  wait  for  thati 
This  is  saying,  in  eflect,  that  he  will  make  a  trial  with 
Omnipotence,  and  resist  as  long  as  he  can  !  How 
can  he  anticipate  any  other  than  k  destructive  energy 
from  that  Spirit  upon  him,  while  he  is  trifling  with, 
and  frustrating  truth,  conviction,  warnings,  and  emo- 
tions of  conscience  !  while  he  is  repelling  all  these 
minor  operations  of  that  Spirit,  instead  of  earnestly- 
praying  for  the  grea  er  ! 


224  FOSTIiu's    THOUGHTS. 


CHAPTER  X. 

PLACES,    NATIONS,    MEN,    AND    BOOKS. 

1.  Bahylon. — There  is  no  modern  Babylon.  It  is 
secluded  and  alone  in  its  desolation  ;  clear  of  all  in- 
terference with  its  one  character  as  monumental  of 
ancient  time  and  existence.  If  the  contemplative 
spectator  could  sojourn  there  alone  and  with  a  sense 
of  safety,  his  mind  would  be  taken  out  of  the  actual 
world,  and  carried  away  to  the  period  of  Babylon's 
magnificence,  its  multitudes,  its  triumphs,  and  the  Di- 
vine denunciations  of  its  catastrophe. 

2.  Egypt. — Egypt  has  monuments  of  antiquity 
surpassing  all  others  on  the  globe.  History  can  not 
tell  when  the  most  stupendous  of  them  were  con- 
structed ;  and  it  would  be  no  improbable  prophecy 
that  they  are  destined  to  remain  to  the  end  of  time. 
Those  enormous  constructions,  assuming  to  rank  with 
nature's  ancient  works  on  the  planet,  and  raised,  as 
if  to  defy  the  powers  of  man  and  the  elements  and 
time  to  demolish  them,  by  a  generation  that  retired 
into  the  impenetrable  darkness  of  antiquity  when 
their  work  was  done,  stand  on  the  surface  in  solemn 
relation  to  the  subterraneous  mansions  of  death.  All 
the  vestiges  bear  an  aspect  intensely  and  unalterably 
gi-ave.  There  is  inscribed  on  them  a  language  which 
tells  the  inquirer  that  its  import  is  not  for  him  or  the 
men  of  his  times.  Persons  that  lived  thousands  of 
years  since  remain  in  substance  and  foi-m,  death  ever- 
lastingly embodied,  as  if  to  emblem  to  us  the  vast 
chasm,  and  the  non-existence  of  relation,  between 
their  race  and  ours.     A  shade  of  mystery  rests  on 


NATIONS.  225 

the  whole   economy  to  which  all  these  objects  be- 
longed. 

3.  Illustrious  names. — Sesostris.Semiramis.Ninus, 
&c.  These  mighty  names  remain  now  only  as  small 
points,  emerging  a  little  above  that  ocean  under  which 
all  their  actions  are  buried.  We  can  just  descry,  by 
the  dying  glimmer  of  ancient  history,  that  that  ocean 
is  of  blood  ! 

4.  French  and  English. — Met  a  number  of  men 
one  after  another.  My  urbanity  was  not  up  to  the 
point  of  saying  "  Good  morning,"  till  I  had  passed 
the  last  of  them,  who  had  nothing  to  attract  civility 
more  than  the  others,  except  his  being  the  last.  If 
a  Frenchman  and  an  Englishman  w^ere  shown  a  dozen 
persons,  and  under  the  necessity  of  choosing  one  of 
them  to  talk  an  hour  with,  the  Frenchman  would 
choose  the  first  in  the  row,  and  the  Englishman  the 
last. 

5.  Irish. — It  will  be  the  utmost  want  of  candor, 
we  think,  to  deny  that  they  are  equal  to  any  nation 
on  the  earth,  in  point  of  both  physical  and  intellectual 
capability.  A  liberal  system  of  government,  and  a 
high  state  of  mental  cultivation,  w^ould  make  them 
the  Athenians  of  the  British  empire.  By  what  mys- 
tery of  iniquity,  or  infatuation  of  policy,  has  it  come 
to  pass,  that  tliey  have  been  doomed  to  unalterable 
ignorance,  poverty,  and  misery,  and  reminded  one 
age  after  another  of  their  dependence  on  a  protestant 
power,  sometimes  by  disdainful  neglect,  and  some- 
times by  the  infliction  of  plagues. 

6.  State  of  Ireland. — There  is  that  most  appalling 
state  of  Ireland.  I  have  no  degree  of  confidence  that 
the  ministry  have  even  the  tcill  to  adopt  the  bold, 
and  radical,  and  comprehensive  measures  which  alone 
could  avail  there.  How  obvious  is  the  necessity  for 
some  imperious  enactment,  to  compel  that  base,  de- 
testable landed  interest,  to  take  the  burden  of  the 
poor,  instead  of  driving  them  out  to  famish,  beg,  or 


\ 

226  poster's  thoughts. 

rob,  and  murder,  on  the  higViway ;  or  throwing  them 
by  tens  of  thousands  on  our  coast,  to  devour  the  means 
of  support  to  our  own  population.  It  would  be  a 
measure  which  would  first  astound,  but  speedily  en- 
rage, the  whole  selfishly  base  propiietary  of  Ireland. 
I  have  no  hope  that  the  ministry  have  the  resolution 
foi  so  mighty  a  stroke  :  and  then  the  Irish  churchT 
The  plain  sense  of  the  thing  is,  that  about  two  thirds, 
or  rather  four  fifths  of  it,  ought  to  be  cut  down  at 
once,  and  that  proportion  of  the  property  applied  to 
national  uses.     But  the  very  notion  of  such  a  thing 

would  be  enough  to  consign to  one  of  the  wards 

in  St.  Luke's.     And  what  would  say,  if  Lord 

Grey  dared  even  to  whisper  such  a  thing  to  him] 
And  yet,  unless  some  such  thing  be  done,  it  is  as  cleai* 
as  noon-day,  that  Ireland  will  continue  a  horrid  scene 
of  distraction  and  misery  ;  growing,  month  by  month, 
more  ferociously  barbai'ous,  and  to  be  kept  down  by 
nothing  but  the  terror  and  occasional  exploits  of  an 
immense  standing  ai-my,  at  the  cost,  too,  of  this  our 
own  tax-consuming  country. 

7.  Addison:  deficiency  of  his  writings  in  religious 
sentiment. — Addison's  style  is  not  sufficiently  close 
and  firm  for  the  use  of  a  philosopher,  and  as  to  the 
exquisite  shades  of  his  colors,  they  can  perhaps  never 

be  successfully  imitated The  very  ample  scope 

of  the  spectator  gave  a  fair  opportunity  for  a  seiious 
writer  to  introduce,  excepting  pure  science,  a  little 
of  every  subject  connected  with  the  condition  and 
happiness  of  men.  How  did  it  happen  that  the  stu- 
pendous circumstance  of  the  redemption  by  the  Mes- 
siah, of  which  the  importance  is  commensurate  with 
the  whole  interests  of  man,  with  the  value  of  his  im- 
mortal spirit,  with  the  government  of  his  Creator  in 
thir.  world,  and  with  the  happiness  of  eternity,  should 
not  have  been  a  few  times,  in  the  long  course  of  that 
work,  fully  and  solemnly  exhibited  ?  Why  should 
not  a  few  of  the  most  peculiar  of  the  doctrines  com- 


f 


MEN    AND    BOOKS.  227 

prehended  in  the  subject  have  been  clothed  witli  the 
fascinating  elegance  of  Addison,  from  whose  pen 
many  persons  would  have  received  an  occasional 
evangelical  lesson  with  incomparably  more  candor 
than  fiom  any  professed  divine  ? 

8.  Baxter:  idea  of  his  lift. — But  to  say  nothing 
of  the  length  of  time  this  would  take,  where  can  mor- 
tal patience  be  found  to  work  out  such  an  historical 
analysis  ?  And  indeed,  after  all,  what  would  be  the 
benefit  of  it  ?  A  boundless,  endless  maze,  and  wil- 
derness of  debatings,  projecting?,  schemings,  and 
dreamings,  about  churches,  and  their  constitution  and 
their  government ;  about  arrangements  for  union,  and 
terms  of  communion;  the  numberless  polemical  no- 
tices which  he  thought  himself  called  upon  to  take 
of  all  the  petty  and  spiteful  cavillers  of  his  time;  the 
hasty  productions  of  an  over-official  zeal  to  set  every- 
body light  about  every  actual  or  possible  thing;  the 
attenuated,  and  infinitely  multiplex  argumentations, 
in  the  manner  of  the  schoolmen,  about  trivial  niceties 
in  theological  doctrine  ;  and  above  all,  the  ever-re- 
newed and  fruitless  toils  to  work  out  a  tertium  quid 
from  the  impossible  combination  of  two  opposite  sys- 
tems of  theology ;  what,  I  repeat,  would  be  the  use 
of  attempting  to  find  or  make  a  biogi'aphical  road 
through  this  vast  chaos? 

9.  Blair:  his  stijle. — The  sentences  appear  often 
like  a  series  of  little  independent  propositions,  each 
satisfied  with  its  own  distinct  meaning,  and  capable  of 
being  placed  in  a  different  part  of  the  train,  without 
injury  to  any  mutual  connexion,  or  ultimate  purpose, 
of  the  thoughts.  The  ideas  relate  to  the  subject 
generally,  without  specifically  relating  to  one  another. 
They  all,  if  we  may  so  speak,  gravitate  to  one  centre, 

but  have  no  mutual  attraction  among  themselves 

The  consequence  of  this  defect  is,  that  the  emphasis 
of  the  sentiment  and  the  ci'isis  or  conclusion  of  the 
argument  come  nowhere ;   since  it  can  not  be  in  any 


228  Foster's  thocghts. 

single  insulated  thought,  and  there  is  not  mutual  de- 
pendence and  co-operation  enough  to  produce  any 

combined  result The  volumes  might  be  taken 

more  properly  than  any  other  modern  book  that  we 
know,   as   comprising  the  whole  commonplaces   of 

imagery He  is    seldom    below   a  respectable 

mediocrity,  but,  we  are  forced  to  admit,  that  he  very 
rarely  rises  above  it.  After  reading  five  or  six  ser- 
mons, we  become  assui'ed  that  we  most  perfectly 
see  the  whole  compass  and  reach  of  his  powers,  and 
that,  if  there  were  twenty  volumes,  we  might  read  on 
through  the  whole,  without  ever  coming  to  a  bold 
conception,  or  a  profound  investigation,  or  a  burst 
of  genuine  enthusiasm.  There  is  not  in  the  train  of 
thoucrht  a  succession  of  eminences  and  depressions, 
rising  toward  sublimity,  and  descending  into  famil- 
iarity. 

10.  Burke,  as  compared  with  Johnson. — I  asserted 
the  strength  of  Burke's  mind  equal  to  that  of  John- 
son's ;  Johnson's  strength  is  more  conspicuous  be- 
cause it  is  barer.  A  very  accomplished  lady  said, 
"  Johnson's  sense  seems  to  me  much  clearer,  much 
more  entirely  disclosed." — "  Madam,  it  is  the  differ- 
ence of  two  walks  in  a  pleasure-ground,  both  equally 
good,  and  broad,  and  extended;  but  the  one  lies  be- 
fore you  plain  and  distinct,  because  it  is  not  beset 
with  the  flowers  and  lilacs  which  fringe  and  embower 
the  other.  T  am  inclined  to  prefer  the  latter."  .... 
Burke's  sentences  are  pointed  at  the  end — instinct 
with  pungent  sense  to  the  last  syllable.  They  are 
like  a  charioteer's  whip,  which  not  only  has  a  long 
and  effective  lash,  but  cracks,  and  inflicts  a  still 
smarter  sensation  at  the  end.  They  are  like  some 
serpents  of  which  I  have  heard  it  vulgarly  said,  their 
life  is  the  fiercest  in  the  tail. 

11.  Lord  Burleigh. — He  held  the  important  sta- 
tion during  very  nearly  the  whole  reign  of  Elizabeth  ; 
and  we  shall  not  allow  it  to  constitute  any  impeach- 


MEV    AND    BOOKS.  229 

ment  of  either  our  loyalty  or  gallantry,  that  we  have 
wished,  while  reading  the  account  of  his  life,  that  he 
had  been  the  monarch  instead  of  our  famous  queen. 
It  is  impossible  to  say  what  share  of  the  better  part 
of  her  fame  was  owing  to  him,  but  we  are  inclined 
to  think,  that  if  we  could  make  out  an  estimate  of 
that  reign,  wanting  all  the  good  which  resulted  from 
just  so  much  wisdom  and.  moderation  as  Cecil  pos- 
sessed beyond  any  other  statesman  that  could  have 
been  employed,  and  including  all  the  evil  which  no 
other  minister  would  have  prevented,  we  should  rifle 
that  splendid  period  of  more  than  half  its  honors. 

12.  Chalmers :  faults  of  style. — No  reader  can 
be  more  sensible  to  its  glow  and  richness  of  coloi-- 
ing,  and  its  not  unfrequent  happy  combinations  of 
words ;  but  there  is  no  denying  that  it  is  guilty  of 
a  rhetorical  march,  a  sonorous  pomp,  a  "  showy  same- 
ness ;"  a  want,  therefore,  of  simplicity  and  flexibility; 
withal,  a  perverse  and  provoking  grotesqueness,  a 
frequent  descent,  stiikingly  incongi'uous  with  the 
pi'evailing  elatedness  of  tone,  to  the  lowest  colloquial- 
ism, and  altogether  an  unpardonable  license  of  strange 
phraseology.  The  number  of  uncouth,  and  fantastic, 
and  we  may  fairly  say  barbarous  phrases,  that  might 
be  transcribed,  is  most  unconscionable.  Such  a  style 
needs  a  strong  hand  of  refoi-m ;  and  the  writer  may 
be  assured  it  contains  life  and  soul  enough  to  endure 
the  most  unrelenting  process  of  coiTection,  the  most 
compulsory  trials  to  change  its  form,  without  hazard 
of  extinguishing  its  spirit. 

13.  Liord  CJiatJiam  in  his  speeches  did  not  reasoB; 

he  struck,  as  by  intuition,  directly  on  the  results  of 

reasoninsr;  as  a  cannon-shot  strikes  the  mark  witb- 

®  .  .         . 

out  your  seeing  its  course  through  the  air  as  it  moves 

toward  its  object. 

14.  Coleridge:  Ms  original  modes  of  thought,  h%tt 
obscure  style. — In  point  of  theological  opinion,  he  is 
become,  indeed  has  now  a  number  of  years  been,  it 

20 


230  Foster's  thoughts. 

is  said,  highly  oi'thoclox.  He  wages  victorious  war 
with  the  Socinians,  if  they  are  not,  which  I  beheve 
they  now  generally  are,  very  careful  to  keep  the 
peace  in  his  company.  His  mind  contains  an  aston- 
ishing mass  of  all  sorts  of  knowledge,  while  in  his 
power  and  manner  of  putting  it  to  use,  he  displays 
more  of  what  we  mean  by  the  term  genius  than  any 

mortal  I  ever  saw  or  ever  expected  to  see The 

eloquent  Coleridge  sometimes  retires  into  a  sublime 
mysticism  of  thought;  he  robes  himself  in  moon- 
light, and  moves  among  images  of  whicli  we  can  not 
be  assured  for  a  while  whether  they  are  substantial 

forms  of  sense  or  fantastic  visions The  cast  of 

his  diction  is  so  unusual,  his  trains  of  thought  so 
habitually  forsake  the  oi'dinary  tracts,  and  therefore 
the  whole  composition  is  so  liable  to  appear  strange 
and  obscure,  that  it  was  evident  the  most  elaborate 
care,  and  a  repeated  revisal,  would  be  indispensable 
in  order  to  render  so  original  a  mode  of  writing  suf- 
ficiently perspicuous  to  be  in  any  degree  popular. 
....  After  setting  before  his  readei's  the  theme,  the 
one  theme  apparently,  undei'taken  to  be  elucidated, 
could  not,  or  would  not,  proceed  in  a  straight-for- 
ward course  of  explanation,  argument,  and  appro- 
priate illustration  from  fancy ;  keeping  in  sight  be- 
fore him  a  cei'tain  ultimate  object ;  and  placing  marks, 
as  it  were,  of  the  steps  and  stages  of  the  pi'ogress. 
....  He  always  carries  on  his  investigation  at  a 
depth,  and  sometimes  a  most  profound  depth,  below 
the  uppermost  and  most  accessible  stratum  ;  and  is 
philosophically  mining  among  its  most  recondite  prin- 
ciples of  the  subject,  while  ordinary  intellectual  and 
literary  workmen,  many  of  them  barely  informed  of 
the  very  existence  of  this  Spirit  of  the  Deep,  ai'e 
pleasing  themselves  and  those  they  draw  around 
them,  with  forming  to  pretty  shapes  or  commodious 
uses,  the  materials  of  the  surface.  It  may  be  added, 
with  some  little  departure  from  the  consistency  of  the 


MEN    AND    BOOKS.  231 

metaphor,  that  if  he  endeavors  to  make  his  voicehcard 
from  this  rej^ion  beneath,  it  is  apt  to  be  listened  to  as 
a  sound  of  dubious  import,  like  that  which  fails  to 
brinq-  articulate  words  from  the  remote  recess  of  a 
cavern,  or  the  bottom  or  the  deep  shaft  of  a  mine. 
However  familiar  the  truths  and  facts  to  which  his 
mind  is  directed,  it  constantly,  and  as  if  involuntarily, 
strikes,  if  we  may  so  speak,  into  the  invisible  and  the  un- 
known of  the  subject:  he  is  seeking  the  most  retired 
and  abstracted  foim  in  which  any  being  can  be  ac- 
knowledged and  realized  as  having  an  existence,  or 
any  truth  can  be  put  in  a  proposition.  He  turns  all 
things  into  their  ghosts,  and  summons  us  to  walk  with 
him  in  this  i-eo^ion  of  shades — this  stransre  world  of 
disembodied  truth  and  entities. 

15.  Curran. — We  have  long  considered  this  dis- 
tinguished counsellor  as  possessed  of  a  higher  genius 
than  any  one  in  his  profession  within  the  British  em- 
pire. The  most  obvious  difference  between  these 
two  great  orators  is,  that  Curran  is  more  versatile, 
rising  often  to  sublimity,  and  often  descending  to 
pleasantry,  and  even  drollery  ;  whereas  Grattan  is 
always  grave  and  austere.  They  both  possess  that 
order  of  intellectual  powers,  of  which  the  limits  can 
not  be  assigned.  No  conception  could  be  so  brilliant 
or  oiiginal,  that  we  should  confidently  pronounce 
that  neither  of  these  men  could  have  uttered  it.  We 
regret  to  imagine  how  many  admirable  thoughts, 
which  such  men  must  have  expressed  in  the  lapse  of 
many  years,  have  been  unrecorded,  and  are  lost  for 
ever.  We  think  of  these  with  the  same  feelings, 
with  which  we  have  often  read  of  the  beautiful  or 
sublime  occasional  phenomena  of  nature,  in  past 
times,  or  remote  regions,  which  amazed  and  delight- 
ed the  beholders,  but  which  we  were  destined  never 
to  see. 

16.  Miss  Edgcicorth:  moral  faults  of  licr  writings. 
— Whether  our  species  were  intended  as  an  exhibi- 


232  Foster's  thoughts. 

tion  for  the  amusement  of  some  superior,  invisible, 
and  malignant  intelligences  ;  or  were  sent  here  to  ex- 
piate the  crimes  of  some  pre-existent  state;  or  were 
made  for  the  purpose,  as  some  philosophers  will  have 
it  and  phiase  it,  o?  developing  the  faculties  of  the 
earth,  that  is  to  say,  managing  its  vegetable  produce, 
extracting  the  wealth  of  its  mines,  and  the  like  ;  or 
were  merely  a  contrivance  for  giving  to  a  certain 
number  of  atoms  the  privilege  of  being,  for  a  iew 
years,  the  constituent  particles  of  warm  upright  liv- 
ing figures;  whether  they  are  appointed  to  any  future 
state  of  sentiment  or  rational  existence  ;  whether,  if 
so,  it  is  to  be  one  fixed  state,  or  a  series  of  trans- 
migrations; a  higher  or  lower  state  than  the  present; 
a  state  of  retribution,  or  beai'ing  no  relation  to  moral 
qualities  ;  whether  there  be  any  Supreme  Power, 
that  presides  over  the  succession  and  condition  of  the 
race,  and  will  see  to  their  ultimate  destination — or, 
in  short,  whether  there  be  any  design,  contrivance, 
or  intelligent  destination  in  the  whole  affair,  or  the 
fact  be  not  rather,  that  the  species,  with  all  its  present 
circumstances,  and  whatever  is  to  become  of  it  here- 
after, is  the  production  and  sport  of  chance — all  these 
questions  are  probably  undecided  in  the  mind  of  our 

ingenious   moralist Our  first  censure  is,  then, 

that,  setting  up  for  a  moral  guide,  our  author  does 
not  pointedly  state  to  her  followers,  that  as  it  is  but 
a  very  short  stage  she  can  pretend  to  conduct  them, 
they  had  need — T/'they  suspect  they  shall  be  obliged 
to  go  further — to  be  looking  out,  even  in  the  very 
beginning  of  this  short  stage  in  which  she  accom- 
panies them,  for  other  guides  to  undertake  for  their 
safety  in  the  remoter  region.  She  presents  herself 
with  the  air  and  tone  of  a  pei'son  who  would  sneer 
or  spurn  at  the  apprehensive  insinuated  inquiry, 
whether  any  change  or  addition  of  guides  might 
eventually  become  necessary. 

But,  secondly,  our  author's  moral  system — on  the 


MEN    AND    COOKS.  233 

hypothesis  of  the  truth,  or  possible  truth,  of  revelation 
— is  not  only  infinitely  deiicient,  as  being  calculated 
to  subserve  the  interests  of  the  human  creatures  only 
to  so  very  short  a  distance,  while  yet  it  carefully 
keeps  out  of  sight  all  that  may  be  beyond  ;  it  is  also 
• — still  on  the  same  hypothesis — perniciously  errone- 
ous as  far  as  it  goes.  For  it  teaches  virtue  on  prin- 
ciples on  which  virtue  itself  will  not  be  approved  by 
the  Supreme  Governor;  and  it  avowedly  encouraf^es 
some  dispositions,  and  directly  oi"  by  implication  tol- 
erates others,  which  in  the  judgment  of  that  Govern- 
or are  absolutely  vicious.  Pride,  honor,  generous 
impulse,  calculation  of  temporal  advantage  and  cus- 
tom of  the  countj-y,  are  convened  along  with  we  know 
not  how  many  other  grave  authorities,  as  the  com- 
ponents of  Miss  Edgeworth's  moral  government — the 
Amphictyons  of  her  legislative  assembly. 

17.  Fox — Slavcnj. — For  ourselves,  we  think  we 
never  heard  any  man  who  dismissed  us  from  the  ar- 
gument on  a  debated  topic  with  such  a  feeling  of 
satisfied  and  final  conviction,  or  such  a  competence 
to  tell  why  we  were  convinced.  This  last  abomina- 
tion, which  had  gradually  lost,  even  on  the  basest 
part  of  the  nation,  that  hold  which  it  had  for  a  while 
maintained  by  a  delusive  notion  of  policy,  and  was 
fast  sinking  under  the  hatred  of  all  that  could  pretend 
to  humanity  or  decency,  was  destined  ultimately  to 
fall  by  his  hand,  at  a  period  so  nearly  contemporary 
with  the  end  of  his  career,  as  to  give  the  remembrance 
of  his  death  somewhat  of  a  similar  advantage  of  as- 
sociation to  that,  by  which  the  death  of  the  Hebrew 
champion  is  always  recollected  in  connexion  with  the 
fall  of  Dagon's  temple. 

18.  Andrew  Fuller. — It  appears  to  us  one  of  the 
most  obvious  characteristics  of  Mr.  Fuller's  mind,  that 
he  was  but  little  sensible  of  the  mysterij  of  any  subject, 
or  of  the  difficulties  arising  in  the  view  of  its  deep 
and  remote  relations — or  if  we  may  use  the  fashionable 

20* 


234  Foster's  thoughts. 

term,  bearings.  To  a  certain  extent,  and  that  mi- 
quc.stionably  a  rcspoctable  one,  he  apprehended  and 
reasoned  with  admiral)le  ch;arness  and  force;  and 
he  could  not,  or  would  not,  surmise  that  any  thino:  of 
impoitance  in  the  rationale  of  the  subject  extended 
beyond  that  compass:  lie  made  therefore  his  propo- 
sitions, his  deductions,  his  conclusions,  quite  in  tlie 
tone  of  a  complacent  self-assnranceof  being  jierfectly 
master  of  the  subject :  while  in  fact  the  subject 
might  involve  wider  and  remoter  considerations,  not 
indeed  easily  reducible  to  the  plain  tangible  predica- 
ments of  his  rough,  confined  logic,  but  essential  to  a 
comprehensive  speculation,  and  very  possibly,  of  a 
nature  to  throw  great  dubiousness  on  the  judgment 
which  he  had  so  decidedly  formed,  and  positively 
pronounced,  on  a  too  contracted  view  of  the  subject. 
....  Inclosing  this  note,  we  do  not  think  it  re(]uisite 
to  use  many  words  in  avowal  of  our  high  estimate 
of  the  intellect  and  the  general  energy  of  mind  of  the 
distinguished  and  lamented  divine:  who,  indeed,  has 
any  other  estimate  ? 

19.  Grattan. — These  passages  tend  to  confirm  the 
general  idea  entertained  of  Mr.  Grattan's  eloquence, 
as  distinguished  by  fire,  sublimity,  and  an  immense 
reach  of  thought.  .  .  .  His  eloquence  must,  in  its  ear- 
liest stage  of  public  display,  have  evinced  itself  as  the 
flame  and  impetus  of  mighty  genius.  The  man  would 
infallibly  be  recognised  as  of  ihe  race  of  the  intellec- 
tual Incas,  the  children  of  the  sun. 

20.  Robert  Hall. — I  was  two  or  three  times  in 
Hall's  company,  and  heard  him  preach  once  ;  I  am 
any  one's  rival  in  admii'ing  him.  In  some  I'emark- 
able  manner,  everything  about  him,  all  he  does  or 
says,  is  instinct  with  power.  Jupiter  seems  to  em- 
anate in  his  attitude,  gesture,  look,  and  tone  of  voice. 
Even  a  common  sentence,  when  he  utters  one,  seems 
to  tell  how  much  more  he  can  do.  His  intellect  is 
peculiarly  potential,  and  his  imagination  robes,  with- 


MEX    AND    ROOKS.  235 

out  obscuring,  the  colossal  form  of  his  mind.  His 
mind  seems  of  an  onler  fit  with  respect  to  its  iiitel- 
leclual  powers  to  go  directly  among  a  superior  rank 
of  intelligences  in  some  other  world,  with  very  little 

requisite  addition  of  force "That  memory,"  he 

said,  "  will  never  vanish  from  the  minds  of  those  who 
have  heard  his  preaching,  and  frequently  his  conver- 
sation, during  the  five  years  that  he  has  been  resident 
here.  As  a  preacher  his  like  or  equal  will  come  no 
more." — "The  chasm  he  has  left  can  never  be  filled. 
The  thing  to  be  deplored  is,  that  he  did  not  fill  a 
s{)ace  which  he  was  beyond  all  men  qualified  to  oc- 
cupy in  our  religious  literature.  It  is  with  deep  re- 
gret one  thinks  what  an  inestimable  possession  for 
our  more  cultivated,  and  our  rising  intelligent  young 
people,  would  have  been  some  six  or  ten  volumes  of 
his  sermons. 

21.  Harris:  7tis  style. — If  I  might  venture  any 
hint  on  a  lower  key,  it  would  perhaps  be — a  tenden- 
cy to  diffuseness,  or  call  it  amplification,  exuberance. 
The  writer  luxuriates  in  his  opulence,  sometimes  di- 
luting a  little  the  effect  which  a  little  more  brevity 
and  compression  might  have  sooner  and  more  sim- 
ply produced.  Not  that  if  I  were  asked  to  note 
any  parts  or  passages  better  om.itted,  1  should  know 
where  to  point ;  it  is  all  to  the  purpose  ;  only  1  may 
fancy  that  a  somewhat  less  multifarious  assemblage 
of  ideas  would  converge  more  pointedly  to  that 
purpose. 

22.  Howard :  j^JiiJantJiropy  his  master  passion.— 
The  energy  of  his  determination  was  so  great,  that  if, 
instead  of  being  habitual,  it  had  been  shown  only  for 
a  short  time  on  particular  occasions,  it  would  have 
appeared  a  vehement  impetuosity  ;  but  by  being  un- 
intermitted,  it  had  an  equability  of  manner  which 
scarcely  appeared  to  exceed  the  tone  of  a  calm  con- 
stancy, it  was  so  totally  the  reverse  of  anything  hke 
turbulence  or  agitation.      It  was  the  calmness  of  an 


236  Foster's  thoughts. 

intensity  kept  uniform  by  the  nature  of  the  human 
mind  forbidding  it  to  be  more,  and  by  the  character 
of  the  individual  forbidding  it  to  be  less.  The  habit- 
ual passion  of  his  mind  was  a  measure  of  feeling  al- 
most equal  to  the  temporary  extremes  and  paroxysms 
of  common  minds :  as  a  great  river,  in  its  customary 
state,  is  equal  to  a  small  or  moderate  one  when 
swollen  to  a  torrent. 

The  moment  of  finishing  his  plans  in  deliberation, 
and  commencing  them  in  action,  was  the  same.  I 
wonder  what  must  have  been  the  amount  of  that 
bribe,  in  emolument,  or  pleasure,  that  would  have 
detained  him  a  week  inactive  after  their  final  adjust- 
ment. The  law  which  carries  water  down  a  decliv- 
ity, was  not  more  unconquerable  and  invariable  than 
the  determination  of  his  feelings  toward  the  main  ob- 
ject. The  importance  of  this  object — held  his  facul- 
ties in  a  state  of  excitement  which  was  too  rigid  to  be 

affected  by  lighter  interests His  attention  was 

so  strongly  and  tenaciously  fixed  on  his  object,  that 
even  at  the  greatest  distance,  as  the  Egyptian  pyra- 
mids to  travellers,  it  appeai-ed  to  him  with  a  lumin- 
ous distinctness  as  if  it  had  been  nigh,  and  beguiled 
the  toilsome  length  of  labor  and  enterprise  by  which 
he  was  to  reach  it.  It  was  so  conspicuous  before 
him,  that  not  a  step  deviated  from  the  direction,  and 
every  movement  and  every  day  was  an  approxima- 
tion. 

23.  Home  Tooke. — His  courage,  which  was  of  the 
coolest  and  firmest  kind,  shrunk  from  no  hazard ;  his 
resources  of  argument  and  declamation  were  inex- 
haustible ;  his  personal  applications  had  every  diver- 
sity of  address  and  persuasion.  .  .  .  Probably  no  man 
ever  did,  on  the  strength  of  what  he  possessed  in  his 
mere  person,  and  in  the  destitution  of  all  advantages 
of  birth,  wealth,  station,  or  connexions,  maintain, 
with  such  perfect  and  easy  uniformity,  so  challenging 
and  peremptory  a  manner  toward  great  and  pretend- 


MEN    AXD    BOOKS.  237 

ing  folks  of  all  sorts He  had   a  constiLulional 

cnnvd^e  hardly  ever  surpassed,  a  perfect  command 
of  his  temper,  all  the  warlike  furniture  and  eflicieiicy 
of  prompt  and  extreme  acuteness,  satiric  wit  in  all  its 
kinds  and  dej^rees,  from  gay  banter  to  the  most  deadly 
mordacity — and  all  this  sustained  by  inexhaustible 
knowledge,  and  indefinitely  reinforced,  as  his  life  ad- 
vanced, by  victorious  exertion  in  many  trying  situa- 
tions  Toward  the  conclusion  of  his  life,  he  made 

calm  and  frequent  references  to  his  death,  but  not  a 
word  is  here  I'ecorded  expressive  of  anticipations  be- 
yond it.  The  unavoidable  inference  from  the  whole 
of  these  melancholy  memorials  is,  that  he  reckoned 

on  the  impunity  of  eternal  sleep A  thoughtful, 

religious  reader  will  accompany  him  with  a  senti- 
ment of  deep  melancholy,  to  behold  so  keen,  and 
strong,  and  perverted  a  spirit,  triumphant  in  its 
own  delusions,  fearlessly  passing  into  the  unknown 
world. 

24.  Johnson  :  elevated  moral  tone  of  Jiis  writings. 
— Johnson  is  to  be  ranked  among  the  greatest  of 
moral  philosophers,  is  less  at  variance  with  the  prin- 
ciples which  appear  to  be  displayed  in  the  New  Tes- 
tament, than  almost  any  other  distinguished  writer 
of  either  of  these  classes.  But  few  of  his  specula- 
tions, comparatively,  tend  to  beguile  the  reader  and 
admirer  into  that  spirit  which,  on  turning  to  the  in- 
structions of  Jesus  Christ  and  his  apostles,  would  feel 
estrangement  or  disgust;  and  he  has  more  explicit 
and  solemn  references  to  the  grand  purpose  of  hu- 
man life,  to  a  future  judgment,  and  to  eternity,  than 
almost  any  other  of  our  elegant  moralists  has  had  the 

piety  or  the  courage  to  make No  writer  ever 

more  completely  exposed  and  blasted  the  folly  and 
vanity  of  the  greatest  number  of  human  pursuits. 
The  visage  of  Medusa,  could  not  have  darted  a  more 
fatal  glance  against  the  tribe  of  gay  triflers,  the  com- 
petitors of  ambition,  the  proud  possessors  of  wealth, 


a 


238  Foster's  thoughts. 

or  the  men  who  consume  their  life  in  useless  specu- 
lations. 

25.  Thomas  More:  hisdisUvg7iis7iedandhlamelcss 
cliaracter. — A  statesman  and  courtier  who  was  per- 
fectly free  from  all  amhition,  from  the  beginnintr  of 
his  career  to  the  entl  ;  who  was  brought  into  office 
and  power  by  little  less  than  compulsion  ;  who  met 
general  flattery  and  admiration  with  a  calm  indiffer- 
ence, and  an  invariable  perception  of  their  vanity; 
■who  amid  the  caresses  of  a  monarch,  longed  to  be 
with  his  children  ;  who  was  the  most  brilliant  and  vi- 
vacious man  in  every  society  he  entered  into,  and  yet 
was  more  fond  of  retirement  even  than  other  states- 
men were  anxious  for  public  glare  ;  who  displayed  a 
real  and  cordial  hilarity  on  descending  from  official 
eminence  to  privacy  and  comparative  poverty ;  who 
made  all  other  concerns  secondary  to  devotion  ;  and 
who,  with  the  softest  temper  and  mildest  manners, 
had  an  inflexibility  of  principle  which  never  at  any 
moment  knew  how  to  hesitate  between  a  sacrifice  of 
conscience  and  of  life.  The  mind  rests  on  this  char- 
acter with  a  fascination  w^iich  most  rarely  seizes  it 

in   passing  over   the  whole  surface  of  history 

After  enduring  with  unalterable  patience  and  cheer- 
fulness the  severities  of  a  year's  imprisonment  in  the 
Tower,  he  was  brought  to  trial,  condemned  with  the 
unhesitating  haste  which  always  distinguishes  the 
creatures  employed  by  a  tyrant  to  effect  his  revenge 
by  some  mockery  of  law,  and  with  the  same  haste 
consigned  to  execution.  Imagination  can  not  repre- 
sent a  scene  more  affecting  than  the  intei-\iew  of 
More  with  his  favorite  daughter,  nor  a  character  of 
more  elevation,  or  even  more  novelty,  than  that  most 
singular  vivacity  with  which,  in  the  hour  of  death,  he 
crowned  the  calm  fortitude  which  he  had  maintained 
through  the  whole  of  the  last  melancholy  year  of  his 
life.  Thus  one  of  the  noblest  beings  in  the  whole 
world  was  made  a  victim  to  the  malice  of  a  remorse- 


ME.\    A.\D    BOOKS.  239 

less  crowned  savaf^e,  whom   it  is   the  infamy  of  the 
age  and  nation  to  have  sufiered  to  leign  or  to  live. 

26.  Pope  :  religious  character  of  his  writings. — 
No  reader  can  admire  more  tlian  I  the  discnminate 
thought,  the  finished  execution,  and  the  galaxy  of 
poetical  felicities,  by  which  Pope's  writings  are  dis- 
tinguished. But  I  can  not  refuse  to  perceive  that 
almost  every  allusion  in  his  lighter  works  to  the 
names,  the  facts,  and  the  topics,  that  peculiarly  be- 
long to  the  religion  of  Christ,  is  in  a  style  and  spirit 
of  profane  banter;  and  that,  in  most  of  his  graver 
ones,  where  he  meant  to  be  dignified,  he  took  the  ut- 
most care  to  divest  his  thoughts  of  all  the  mean  vul- 
garity of  Christian  associations.  "  Off,  ye  profane  !" 
might  seem  to  have  been  his  address  to  all  evangeli- 
cal ideas,  when  he  began  his  "  Essay  on  Man ;"  and 
they  were  obedient,  and  fled  ;  for  if  you  detach  the 
detail  and  illustrations,  so  as  to  lay  bare  the  outline 
and  general  principles  of  the  work,  it  will  stand  con- 
fessed an  elaborate  attempt  to  redeem  the  whole  the- 
ory of  the  condition  and  interests  of  men,  both  in  life 
and  death,  from  all  the  explanations  imposed  on  it  by 
an  unphiloso])hical  revelation  from  Heaven.  And  in 
the  happy  riddance  of  this  despised  though  celestial 
light,  it  exhibits  a  sort  of  moonlight  vision,  of  thin, 
impalpable  abstractions,  at  which  a  speculatist  may 
gaze,  with  a  dubious  wonder  whether  they  are  reali- 
ties or  phantoms  ;  but  which  a  practical  man  will  in 
vain  try  to  seize  and  turn  to  account,  and  which  an 
evangelical  man  will  disdain  to  accept  in  substitution 
for  those  applicable  and  affecting  forms  of  truth  with 
which  his  religion  has  made  him  conversant. 

27.  Shahspere  had  perceptions  of  every  kind  ;  he 
could  think  every  way.  His  mind  mi^ht  be  com- 
pared to  that  monster  the  prophet  saw  in  his  vision, 
which  had  eyes  all  over. 

28.  Jeremy  Taylor. — From  the  little  I  have  yet 
rt'id.I  am  strongly  incUned  to  think  this  said  Jeremy 


240  Foster's  thoughts. 

is  the  most  completely  eloquent  writer  in  our  lan- 
guage. There  is  a  most  manly  and  graceful  ease  and 
freedom  in  his  composition,  while  a  strong  ir,tellect  is 
working  logically  through  every  paragraph,  while  all 
manner  of  beautiful  images  continually  fall  in  as  by 
felicitous  accident. 

29.  Formidable  extent  of  literature  almost  discour- 
ages enthusiastic  pursuit.  Men  of  ordinary  literary 
hardihood  look  over  the  dusty  and  solemn  ranks  of 
learned  works  in  a  great  public  library  as  an  invin- 
cible terra  incognita  ;  they  gaze  on  the  lettered  lati- 
tude and  altitude  as  they  would  on  the  inaccessible 
shore  of  some  great  island  bounded  on  ail  sides  with 
a  rocky  precipice. 

30.  Understanding  tlie  true  basis  of  mental  excel- 
lence and  sound  literature. — Every  thinker,  writer, 
and  speaker,  ought  to  be  apprized  that  understanding 
is  the  basis  of  all  mental  excellence,  and  that  none  of 
the  faculties  projecting  beyond  this  basis  can  be  either 
firm  or  graceful.  A  mind  may  have  great  dignity  and 
power,  whose  basis  of  judgment,  to  carry  on  the  fig- 
ure, is  broader  than  the  other  faculties  that  fonn  the 
superstructure :  thus  a  man  whose  memory  is  less 
than  his  understanding,  and  his  imagination  less  than 
his  memory,  and  his  wit  none  at  all,  may  be  an  ex- 
tremely respectable,  able  man — as  a  pyramid  is  suffi- 
ciently graceful  and  infinitely  strong ;  but  not  so  a 
man  whose  memory  or  fancy  is  the  widest  faculty, 
and  then  his  judgment  more  confined.  Not  but  that  a 
man  may  have  a  powerful  understanding  while  he  has 
a  still  more  powerful  imagination  ;  but  he  would  be  a 
much  superior  man  to  what  he  is  now,  if  his  under- 
standing could  be  extended  to  the  dimensions  of  his 
fancy,  and  his  fancy  reduced  to  the  dimensions  of  his 
present  understanding — the  faculties  thus  chanjringr 
places.  In  eloquence,  and  even  in  poetry,  which 
seems  so  much  the  lawful  province  of  imagination, 
should  imagination  be  ever  so  warm  and  redundant. 


LITERATURE.  241 

yet  unless  a  sound,  discriminating  judgment  likewise 
appear,  it  is  not  true  poetry ;  no  more  than  it  would 
be  painting  if  a  man  took  the  colors  and  brush  of  a 
painter,  and  stained  the  paper  or  canvass  with  mere 
patches  of  color.  I  can  thus  exhibit  colors  as  well  as 
he,  but  I  can  not  produce  his  forms,  to  which  his  col- 
ors are  quite  secondary.  Images  are  to  sense  what 
colors  are  to  design.  The  productions  of  intellect 
and  fancy  combined  are  to  those  of  good  intellect 
alone,  what  a  picture  is  to  a  drawing :  each  must 
have  correct  form,  proportions,  light  and  shade,  &c. ; 
with  these  alone  the  drawing  may  be  pleasing  and 
sti-iking — at  least  it  will  do ;  the  picture  having  both 
these  recommendations,  and  the  richness  of  colors  in 
addition,  is  much  more  beautiful  and  like  reality — 
but  the  drawing  is  preferable  to  a  square  mile  of 
mere  colors. 

31 .  Effect  of  reading  a  transcendent  dramatic  work. 
— I  never  was  so  fiercely  carried  off  by  Pegasus  be- 
fore ;  the  fellow  neighed  as  he  ascended. 

32.  Com  monplace  thoughts  can  not  arrest  attention. 
— Many  things  may  descend  from  the  shy  of  truth 
without  deeply  striking  and  interesting  men  ;  as  from 
the  sky  of  clouds,  rain,  snow,  &c.,  may  descend  with- 
out exciting  ardent  attention  :  it  must  be  large  hail- 
stones, the  sound  of  thunder,  torrent-rain,  and  the 
lio^htninor-flash  :  analosfous  to  these  must  be  the  ideas 
and  propositions  which  strike  men's  mmds. 

33.  Importance  of  consistency  in  fictitious  xcriting. 
— One  important  rule  belongs  to  the  composition  of 
a  fiction,  which  I  suppose  the  writers  of  fiction  sel- 
dom think  of,  viz.,  never  to  fabricate  or  introduce  a 
character  to  whom  greater  talents  or  wisdom  is  at- 
tributed than  the  author  himself  possesses  ;  if  he  does, 
how  shall  this  character  be  sustained  1  By  what  means 
should  my  own  fictitious  personage  think  or  talk  bet- 
ter than  myself?     The  author  may  indeed  describe 

i  his  hero,  and  say  that  his  Edward,  or  his  Henry,  or 

21 


ii 


242  FOSTEIt's    THOUGHTS. 

liis  Francis,  is  ilistinguishetl  by  genius,  aciiteness, 
profiiiidity  and  comprehension  of  intellect,  oi-igitiality 
and  pathos  of  sentiment,  magical  fancy,  and  every- 
thing else;  this  is  all  very  soon  done.  But  if  this 
Henry,  or  Edward,  or  Clement,  or  whatever  else  it 
is,  is  to  talk  before  us,  then,  unless  the  author  him- 
self has  all  these  high  qualities  of  mind,  he  can  not, 
like  a  ventriloquist,  make  them  speak  in  the  person 
of  his  hero.  There  will  thus  be  a  miserable  discrep- 
ancy between  what  his  hero  was  at  his  introduction 
described  to  be,  and  what  he  proves  himself  to  be 
when  he  opens  his  mouth.  AVe  may  easily  imagine, 
then,  how  qualified  the  greatest  number  of  novel- 
writers  are  for  devising  thought,  speech,  and  action, 
for  heroes,  sages,  philosophers,  geniuses,  wits,  &c. ! 
Yet  this  is  what  they  all  can  do  ! 

34.  Conversational  disquisition  on  novels. — I  have 
often  maintained  that  fiction  may  be  much  more 
instructive  than  real  history.  I  think  so  still;  but 
viewing  the  vast  rout  of  novels  as  they  are,  I  do 
think  they  do  incalculable  mischief.  1  wish  we  could 
collect  them  all  together,  and  make  one  vast  fire  of 
them  ;  I  should  exult  to  see  tlie  smoke  of  them  ascend 
like  that  of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah:  the  judgment 
would  be  as  just." 

35.  Great  dcjicicncij  of  iphat  may  he  called  conclu- 
sive writing  and  sjjeaking. — How  seldom  we  feel  at 
the  end  of  the  paragraph  or  discourse  that  something 
is  settled  and,  done  !  It  lets  our  habit  of  thinking  and 
feeling  jM.*;!  he  as  it  teas.  It  rather  carries  on  a  paral- 
lel to  the  line  of  the  mind,  at  a  peaceful  distance,  than 
fires  down  a  tangent  to  smite  across  it.  We  are  not 
compelled  to  say  with  ourselves  emphatically,  "  Yes, 
it  is  so  !  it  must  be  so  ;  that  is  decided  to  all  eterni- 
ty!" The  subject  in  question  is  still  left  afloat,  and 
you  find  in  your  mind  no  new  impulse  to  action,  and 
no  clearer  view  of  the  end  at  which  your  action  should 
aim.     I  want  the  speaker  or  writer  ever  and  anon,  as 


LITERATURE.  243 

lie  ends  a  series  of  paragvaplis,  to  settle  some  point 
irrevocably  with  a  rigorous  knock  of  persuasive  ile- 
cisionjike  an  auctioneer,  who  with  a  rap  of  his  ham- 
mer says,  "  There!  that's  yours;  I've  done  with  it; 
now  for  the  next." 

36.  Commonplace  preachers. — It  is  strange  to  ob- 
serve bow  some  men,  whose  business  is  thoutjht  anr] 
truth,  acquire  no  enlargement,  accession,  or  novelty 
of  ideas,  from  the  course  of  many  years,  and  a  wide 
scope  of  experience.  It  might  seem  as  if  they  had 
slept  the  last  twenty  years,  and  now  awaked  with  ex- 
actly the  same  intellectual  stock  which  they  had  be- 
fore they  began  the  nap. 

37.  A  class  of  writings  as  void  of  merit  as  of  liter- 
ary faults — There  is  another  large  class  of  Chiistian 
books,  which  bear  the  marks  of  learning,  correctness, 
and  a  disciplined  undeistanding  ;  and  by  a  general 
propriety  leave  but  little  to  be  censured  ;  but  which 
display  no  invention,  no  prominence  of  thought,  nor 
living  vigor  of  expression  :  all  is  flat  and  dry  as  a 
plain  of  sand.  It  is  perhaps  the  thousandth  iteration 
of  commonplaces,  the  listless  attention  to  which  is 
hardly  an  action  of  the  mind  :  you  seem  to  under- 
stand it  all,  and  mechanically  assent  while  you  are 
thinking  of  something  else.  Though  the  author  has 
a  rich,  immeasurable  field  of  possible  varieties  of  le- 
flection  and  illustration  around  him,  he  seems  doomed 
to  tread  over  again  the  narrow  space  of  ground  long 
since  trodden  to  dust,  and  in  all  his  movements  ap- 
pears clothed  in  sheets  of  lead.  .  .  .  But  unfortunate- 
ly, they  forgot  that  eloquence  resides  essentially  in 
the  thought,  and  that  no  words  can  make  that  eloquent 
which  will  not  be  so  in  the  plainest  that  could  fully 
express  the  sense. 

3S    Remark  on    being  requested   to  translate  Bu. 
chanan's  incomparable  Latin  Ode  to  May. — It  would 
be  like  the  attempt  to  paint  a  sun-setting  cloud-scene. 

39.   Com*nonplace  truth  is  of  no  use,  as  it  makes 


^il 


244  Foster's  thoughts. 

no  impression;  it  is  no  more  instruction  than  wind  is 
music.  The  truth  must  take  a  particular  bearing,  as 
the  wind  must  pass  through  tubes,  to  be  anything 
worth. 

40.  The  greatest  excellence  of  writing. — Of  all  the 
kinds  of  writing  and  discourse,  that  appears  to  me  in- 
comparably the  best  which  is  distinguished  by  grand 
masses  and  prominent  bulks  ;  which  stand  out  in  mag- 
nitude from  the  tame  groundwork,  and  impel  the 
mind  by  a  succession  of  separate,  strong  impulses, 
rather  than  a  continuity  of  equable  sentiment.  One 
has  read  and  heard  very  sensible  discoui'ses,  which 
resembled  a  plain,  handsome  brick  wall :  alt  looks 
very  well,  'tis  regularly  built,  high,  &c.,  but  'tis  all 
alike;  it  is  flat;  you  go  on  and  on,  and  notice  no  one 
part  more  than  another;  each  individual  brick  is  noth- 
ing, and  you  pass  along,  and  soon  forget  utterly  the 
wall  itself.  Give  me,  on  the  contrary,  a  style  of  wri- 
ting: and  discourse  that  shall  resemble  a  wall  that  has 
the  striking  irregularity  of  pilasters,  pictures,  niches, 
and  statues. 

41.  Inferior  religious  books. — It  is  true  enough 
that  on  every  other  subject,  on  which  a  multitude  of 
books  have  been  written,  there  must  have  been  many 
which  in  a  literary  sense  were  bad.  But  I  can  not 
help  thinking  that  the  number  coming  under  this  de- 
scription bear  a  lai'ger  proportion  to  the  excellent 
ones  in  the  religious  department  than  in  any  other. 
One  chief  cause  of  this  has  been,  the  mistake  by 
which  many  good  men  professionally  employed  in 
religion  have  deemed  their  respectable  mental  com- 
petence to  the  office  of  public  speaking  the  proof  of 
an  equal  competence  to  a  work,  which  is  subjected 
to  much  severer  literary  and  intellectual  laws. 

42.  The  common  of  literature. — How  large  a  por- 
tion of  the  material  that  books  are  made  of,  is  desti- 
tute of  any  peculiar  distinction  !  "  It  has,"  as  Pope 
said  of  women,  just  "  no  charactei*  at  all."     An  ac- 


=iii 


LITERATURE.  245 

cumulation  of  sentences  and  pages  of  vulgar  tru- 
isms and  candle-light  sense,  which  any  one  was  com- 
petent to  write,  and  whicli^  no  one  is  interested  in 
reading,  or  cares  to  remember,  or  could  remember 
if  he  cared.  This  is  the  common  of  litei'ature — of 
space  wide  enough,  of  indiflerent  production,  and 
open  to  all.  The  pages  of  some  authors,  on  the  con- 
trary, give  one  the  idea  of  enclosed  gardens  and 
orchards,  and  one  says — "  Ha  !  tliat  is  the  man's 
own." 

1 3.  T/ie  class  ofhoohs  tJiat  should  be  read. — A  man 
of  ability,  for  the  chief  of  his  reading,  should  select 
S'jch  works  as  he  feels  beyond  his  own  power  to  have 
produced.  What  can  other  books  do  for  liim  but 
waste  his  time  and  augment  his  vanity  ? 

44.  Waste  of  time  in  reading  inferior  books. — Why 
should  a  man,  except  for  some  special  reason,  read 
a  very  inferior  book,  at  the  very  time  that  he  might 
be  i-eadins:  one  of  the  highest  order] 

45.  Ancient  metaphysics. — The  only  attraction  of 
abstract  speculations  is  in  their  truth ;  and  therefore 
wlien  the  persuasion  of  their  truth  is  gone,  all  their 
influence  is  extinct.  That  which  could  please  the 
imagination  or  interest  the  affections,  might  in  a  con- 
siderable degree  continue  to  please  and  interest  them, 
though  convicted  of  fallacy.  But  that  which  is  too 
subtle  to  please  the  imagination,  loses  all  its  power 
when  it  is  rejected  by  the  judgment.  And  this  is  the 
predicament  to  which  time  has  reduced  the  meta- 
physics of  the  old  philosophers.  The  captivation  of 
their  systems  seems  almost  as  far  withdrawn  from  us 
as  the  songs  of  their  sirens,  or  the  enchantments  of 
Medea. 

46.  The  moral  effect  of  the  Iliad  upon  the  ivorld. — 
After  considering  the  effect  which  has  been  produced 
by  the  Iliad  of  Homer,  I  am  compelled  to  regard  it 
with  the  same  sentiment  as  I  should  a  knife  of  beau- 
tiful workmanship,  which  had  been  the  instrument 

21* 


246  Foster's  thoughts. 

used  in  murdering  an  innocent  family.  Recollect,  as 
one  instance,  its  influence  on  Alexander,  and  through 
him  on  the  world. 

47.  FliUosopliy  of  the  demoralizing  infliievce  nf  lit- 
erature.— No  one,  I  suppose,  will  deny  that  both  the 
characters  and  the  sentiments,  which  are  the  favor- 
ites of  the  poet  and  the  historian,  become,  the  favor- 
ites also  of  the  admiring  reader;  for  tliis  would  be  to 
deny  the  excellence  of  the  poetry  and  eloquence.  It 
is  the  high  test  and  proof  of  genius  that  a  Avriter  can 
render  his  subject  interesting  to  his  readers,  not 
merely  in  a  general  way,  but  in  the  very  same  man- 
ner that  it  interests  himself.  If  the  great  works  of 
antiquity  had  not  this  power,  they  would  long  since 
have  ceased  to  charm.  We  could  not  long  tolerate 
what  revolted,  while  it  was  designed  to  please,  our 
moral  feelings.  But  if  their  characters  and  senti- 
ments really  do  thus  fascinate  the  heait,  how  far  will 
this  influence  be  coincident  with  the  spirit  and  with 
the  design  of  Christianity  1  ....  Let  this  susceptible 
youth,  after  having  mingled  and  burned  in  imagina- 
tion among  heroes,  whose  valor  and  anger  flame  like 
Vesuvius,  who  wade  in  blood,  trample  on  dying  foes, 
and  hurl  defiance  against  earth  and  Heaven;  let  him 
be  led  into  the  company  of  Jesus  Christ  and  his  dis- 
ciples, as  displayed  by  the  evangelists,  with  whose 
nariative,  I  will  suppose,  he  is  but  slightly  acquaint- 
ed before.  What  must  he,  what  can  he  do  with  his 
feelings  in  this  transition  1  He  will  find  himself  flung 
as  far  as  "from  the  centre  to  the  utmost  pole  ;"  and 
one  of  these  two   opposite  exhihitions  of  character 

will  inevitably  excite  his  aversion He  will  be 

incessantly  called  upon  to  worship  revenge,  the  real 
divinity  of  the  Iliad,  in  comparison  with  which  the 
Thunderer  of  Olympus  is  but  a  desjncable  pretender 
to  power.  He  will  be  taught  that  the  most  glorious 
and  enviable  life  is  that  to  which  the  greatest  num- 
b«;r  of  lives  are  made  a  sacrifice ;  and  that  it  is  noble 


LITERATURE.  217 

in  a  liero  to  prefer  even  a  short  life  attended  by  this 
felicity,  to  a  long  one  vvliith  should  permit  a  longer 
life  also  to  others. 

49.  Af)tag07iis?n  to  CJirisfianit;/ in prnjcssrdi ij  CJiris- 
tia7i  literature. —  I  fear  it  is  incontrovertible,  tliat  far 
the  greatest  part  of  what  is  termed  polite  literature, 
by  familiarity  with  which  taste  is  refined,  and  the 
moral  sentiments  are  in  a  great  measuie  foimed,  is 
hostile  to  the  religion  of  Christ;  partly  by  introdu- 
cing insensibly  a  certain  order  of  opinions  unconso- 
nant, or  at  least  not  identical,  with  the  princi})les  of 
that  religion  ;   and  still  more  by  training  the  ieelings 

to  a  habit  alien  from  its  spirit This  is  just  as  if 

an  eloquent  pagan  priest  had  been  allowed  constantly 
to  accompany  our  Lord  in  bis  ministry,  and  had  di- 
vided with  him  the  attention  and  interest  of  his  disci- 
ples, counteracting,  of  course,  as  far  as  his  efforts 
were  successful,  the  doctrine  and  spiiit  of  the  Teacher 
from  heaven. 

50.  Remponsihility  of  elegant  writers. — One  can  not 
close  such  a  review  of  our  fine  writers  without  mel- 
ancholy reflections.  That  cause  which  will  laise  all 
its  zealous  friends  to  a  sublime  eminence  on  tlie  last 
and  most  solemn  day  the  world  has  to  behold,  and 
will  make  them  great  for  ever,  presented  its  claims 
full  in  sicrht  of  each  of  these  authors  in  his  time.  The 
very  lowest  of  those  claims  could  not  be  less  than  a 
conscientious  solicitude  to  beware  of  everything  that 
could  in  any  point  injure  the  sacred  cause.  This 
claim  has  been  slighted  by  so  many  as  have  lent  at- 
traction to  an  order  of  moral  sentiments  greatly  dis- 
cordant with  its  jirinciples.  And  so  many  are  gone 
into  eternity  under  the  charge  of  having  empU)yed 
theii'  iienius,  as  the  masicians  their  enchantments 
against  Moses,  to  counteract  the  Savior  of  the  wuild. 

51.  Amcnnhility  of  literature  to  a  standard. — Ev- 
ery work  ought  to  have  so  far  a  specific  object,  that 
we  can  form  some  notion  what  materials  are  properly 


248  Foster's  thoughts. 

or  iinpropevly  introJucerl,  and  within  what  compass 
tho  whole  should  be  contained.  Those  works  that 
disdain  to  recognise  any  standard  of  prescription 
according  to  which  hooks  are  appointed  to  be  made, 
may  fairly  be  regarded  as  outlaws  of  literature,  which 
every  prowling  reviewer  has  a  right  to  fall  upon 
wherever  he  finds  them. 

52.  Naturalness  of  characters  no  excuse  for  their 
depravity. — It  is  no  justification  to  say  that  such  in- 
stances have  been  known,  and  therefore  such  repre- 
sentations but  imitate  reality;  for  if  the  laws  of  criti- 
cism do  not  enjoin,  in  works  of  genius,  a  careful 
adaptation  of  all  examples  and  sentiments  to  the 
purest  moral  purpose,  as  a  far  higher  duty  than  the 
study  of  resemblance  to  the  actual  world,  the  laws  of 
piety  most  certainly  do.  Let  the  men  who  iiave  so 
much  literary  conscience  about  this  verisimilitude, 
content  themselves  with  the  office  of  mere  histoiians, 
and  then  they  may  relate  without  guilt,  if  the  relation 
be  simple  and  unvarnished,  all  the  facts  and  speeches 
of  depraved  greatness  within  the  memory  of  the 
world.  But  when  they  choose  the  higher  office  of 
inventing  and  combining,  they  are  accountable  for  all 
the  consequences.  They  create  a  new  person,  and, 
in  sending  him  into  society,  they  can  choose  whether 
his  example  shall  tend  to  improve  or  to  pervert  the 
minds  that  will  be  compelled  to  admire  him. 

o3.  Elegant  writers  often  confound  Christian  and 
pagan  doctrines — You  would  have  supposed  that 
these  writers  had  heard  of  one  Jesus  Christ,  as  they 
had  heard  of  one  Confucius,  as  a  teacher  whose  in- 
structions are  admitted  to  contain  many  excellent 
things,  and  to  whose  system  a  liberal  mind  will  occa- 
sionally advert,  well  pleased  to  see  China,  Greece, 
and  Judea,  as  well  as  England,  producing  their  phi- 
losophers, of  various  degrees  and  modes  of  illumina- 
tion, for  the  honor  of  their  respective  countries  and 


LITERATURE.  249 

periods,  and  for  the  concurrent  promotion  of  human 
intelligence. 

54.  The  good  men  of  elegant  writer  sless  tJian  CJiris' 
tians. — One  thing  extremely  obvious  to  remark  is,  that 
the  good  man,  the  man  of  virtue,  w^ho  is  of  necessity 
constantly  presented  to  view  in  the  volumes  of  these 
w^riters,  is  not  a  Christian.  His  character  could  have 
been  formed,  though  the  Christian  revelation  had  nev- 
er been  opened  on  the  earth,  or  though  all  the  copies 
of  the  New  Testament  had  perished  ages  since  ;  and 
it  might  have  appeared  admirable,  but  not  peculiar. 

^b.  Elegant  tvriters  restrict  their  views  too  much  to 
this  life. — Their  schemes  of  happiness,  though  formed 
for  beings  at  once  immortal  and  departing,  include 
little  which  avowedly  relates  to  that  world  to  which 
they  are  removing,  nor  reach  beyond  the  period  at 
which  they  will  properly  but  begin  to  live.  They 
endeavor  to  raise  the  groves  of  an  earthly  paradise, 
to  shade  from  sight  that  vista  which  opens  to  the  dis- 
tance of  eternity. 

56.  Defective  views  of  the  future  state  in  popular 
icriters. — The  pleaders  of  them  seem  more  concerned 
to  convey  the  dying  man  in  peace  and  silence  out  of 
the  world,  than  to  conduct  him  to  the  celestial  felicity. 
Let  us  but  see  him  embarked  on  his  unknown  voyage 
in  fair  weather,  and  we  are  not  accountable  for  what 
he  may  meet,  or  where  he  may  be  carried,  when  he 
is  gone  out  of  sight.  They  seldom  present  a  lively 
view  of  the  distant  happiness,  especially  in  any  of 
those  images  in  which  the  Christian  revelation  has 
intimated  its  nature.  In  which  of  these  books,  and 
by  which  of  the  real  or  fictitious  characters  whose 
last  hours  and  thoughts  they  sometimes  display,  will 
you  find,  in  terms  or  in  spirit,  the  apostolic  sentiments 
adopted — "  To  depart  and  be  with  Christ  is  far  bet- 
ter"— "  Willing  rather  to  be  absent  from  the  body, 
and  present  with  the  Lord  ?" 

57.  Unfaithfulness  of  elegant  authors  to  the  Ghris' 


250  Foster's  thoughts. 

tian  stavrlard. — No  one  can  be  so  absurd  as  to  rep- 
resent the  notions  wliith  pervade  tlie  works  of  polite 
literature  as  totally,  nnd  at  all  points,  opposite  to  the 
piinciples  of  Christianity;  what  I  am  asserting  is, 
that  in  some  impojtant  points  they  are  substantially 
and  essentially  different,  and  that  in  others  they  dis- 
own the  Christian  modification. 

58.  Fine  rcr iters  present  fictitious  or  corrupting  in- 
cidents and  aspects  of  society. —  If  it  be  said  that  such 
works  stand  on  the  same  ground,  except  as  to  the  re- 
ality or  accuracy  of  the  facts,  with  an  eloquent  history, 
whicli  simply  exliibits  the  actions  and  characters,  I 
deny  the  assertion.  The  actions  and  characters  are 
presented  in  a  manner  which  prevents  their  just  im- 
pression, and  empowers  them  to  make  an  opposite 
one.  A  transforming  magic  of  genius  displays  a  num- 
ber of  atrocious  savaofes  in  a  hideous  slaughter-house 
of  men,  as  demigods  in  a  temple  of  glory.  No  doubt 
an  eloquent  history  might  be  so  written  as  to  give  the 
same  aspect  to  such  men,  and  such  operations ;  but 
that  history  would  deserve  to  be  committed  to  the 
flames.  A  history  that  should  present  a  perfect  dis- 
play of  human  misery  and  slaughter,  would  incite  no 
one,  that  had  not  attained  the  last  possibility  of  de- 
pravation,  to  imitate  the  principal  actois.  It  would 
give  the  same  feeling  as  the  sight  of  a  field  of  dead 
and  dying  men  after  a  battle  is  over. 

59.  Discrepancy  heticeen  pagan  and  Christian  vir- 
tue overlooked  hy  fine  writers. — And  why  do  I  deem 
the  admiration  of  this  noble  display  of  moral  excel- 
lence pernicious  to  these  reflective  minds,  in  relation 
to  the  religion  of  Christ  ?  For  the  simplest  possible 
reason:  because  the  principles  of  that  excellence  are 
not  identical  with  the  principles  of  this  religion;  as  I 
believe  every  serious  and  self-observant  man,  who 
has  been  attentive  to  them  both,  will  have  verified  in 
his  own  experience.  He  has  felt  the  animation  which 
pervaded  his  soul,  in  musing  on  the  virtues,  the  sen- 


LITERATURE.  251 

timents,  and  flie  great  actions,  of  these  (lignified  men, 
suddenly  expiring,  when  he  has  attemptc'd  to  prf)long 
or  transfer  it  to  the  virtues,  sentiments,  and  actions, 
of  the  apostles  of  Jesus  Chiist.  He  finds  this  am- 
phibious devotion  impossible. 

GO.  Pagan  distinctions  in  morals  covfovnded  with 
the  Christian  by  elegant  authors. — It  might  have  been 
presumed  that  all  principles  which  the  new  dispensa- 
tion rendered  obsolete,  or  declared  or  implied  to  be 
wrong,  should  no  more  be  regarded  as  belonging  to 
the  system  of  principles  to  be  henceforward  received 
and  taught,  than  dead  bodies  in  their  graves  belong 
to  the  race  of  living  men.  To  retain  or  recall  them 
would,  therefore,  be  as  oifensive  to  the  judgment,  as 
to  take  up  these  bodies  and  place  them  in  the  paths 
of  men  would  be  offensive  to  the  senses ;  and  as  ab- 
surd as  the  practice  of  the  ancient  Egyptians,  who 
carried  their  embalmed  ancestors  to  their  festivals. 
It  miglit  have  been  supposed  that  whatever  Christi- 
anity had  actually  substituted,  abolished,  or  supplied, 
would  therefore  be  practically  regarded  by  these  be- 
lievers of  it  as  substituted,  abolished,  or  supplied  ; 
and  that  they  would,  in  all  their  writings,  be  at  least 
as  careful  of  their  fidelity  in  this  great  article,  as  a 
man  who  adopts  the  Newtonian  philosophy  would 
be  certain  to  exclude  from  his  scientific  discourse  all 
ideas  that  seriously  implied  the  Ptolemaic  or  Tycho- 
nic  system  to  be  true. 

61 .  Profane  divorcement  of  literature  from  religion 
hy  popular  writers. — After  a  comparatively  small  num- 
ber of  names  and  books  are  excepted,  what  are  called 
the  British  classics,  with  the  addition  of  very  many 
works  of  great  literary  merit  that  have  not  quite  at- 
tained that  rank,  present  an  immense  vacancy  of 
Christianized  sentiment.  The  authois  do  not  ex- 
hibit the  signs  of  having  ever  deeply  studied  Chiisti- 
anity,  or  of  retaining  any  discriminative  and  serious 
impression  of  it.     Whatever  has  strongly  occupied  a 


252  Foster's  thoughts. 

man's  attention,  affected  his  feelings,  and  filled  his 
mind  with  ideas,  will  even  unintentionally  show  it- 
self in  the  train  and  cast  of  his  discourse  :  these  wri- 
ters do  not  in  this  manner  betray  that  their  faculties 
have  been  occupied  and  interested  by  the  special 
views  unfolded  in  the  evangelic  dispensation.  Of 
their  being  solemnly  conversant  with  these  views,  you 
discover  no  notices  analogous,  for  instance,  to  those 
which  appear  in  the  writing  or  discourse  of  a  man, 
who  has  lately  passed  some  time  amid  the  wonders 
of  Rome  or  Egypt,  and  who  shows  you,  by  almost 
unconscious  allusions  and  imasfcs  occurring  in  his 
language  even  on  other  subjects,  how  profoundly  he 
has  been  interested  in  contemplating  triumphal  arch- 
es, temples,  pyramids,  and  tombs.  Their  minds  are 
not  naturalized,  if  I  may  so  speak,  to  the  images  and 
scenery  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ,  or  to  that  kind  of 
light  which  the  gospel  throws  on  all  objects.  They 
are  somewhat  like  the  inhabitants  of  those  towns 
within  the  vast  salt-mines  of  Poland,  who,  beholding 
every  object  in  their  region  by  the  light  of  lamps  and 
candles  only,  have  in  their  conversation  no  expies- 
sions  describing  things  in  such  aspects  as  never  ap- 
pear but  under  the  lights  of  heaven. 

62.  True  connexion  of  religion  and  literature  over- 
looked by  popular  authors. — Christian  principles  have 
something  in  their  nature  which  has  a  relation  with 
something  in  the  nature  of  almost  all  serious  subjects. 
Their  being  extended  to  those  subjects,  therefore,  is 
not  an  arbitrary  and  forced  application  of  them  ;  it  is 
merely  permitting  their  cognizance  and  interfusion  in 
whatever  is  essentially  of  a  common  nature  with  them. 
It  must  be  evident  in  a  moment  that  the  most  general 
doctrines  of  Christianity,  such  as  those  of  a  future 
judgment,  and  immortality,  if  believed  to  be  true, 
have  a  direct  relation  with  everything  that  can  be 
comprehended  within  the  widest  range  of  moral  spec- 
ulation and  sentiment.     It  will  also  be  found  that  the 


f.fTF.R  vrrnr.  P.53 

more  particular  doctiiiies,  such  as  those  of  the  moral 
depravity  of  our  nature,  an  atonement  made  by  the 
sacrifice  of  Christ,  the  interference  of  a  special  Di- 
vine influence  in  renewing  the  human  mind,  and  ed- 
ucating it  for  a  future  state,  together  with  all  the 
inferences,  conditions,  and  motives,  resulting  from 
them,  can  not  be  admitted  and  religiously  regarded, 
without  combining  themselves,  in  numberless  instan- 
ces, with  a  man's  ideas  on  moral  subjects.  I  mean, 
that  it  is  in  their  very  nature  thus  to  interfere  and 
find  out  a  relation  with  these  ideas,  even  if  there  were 
no  Divine  requirement  that  they  should.  That  wnter 
must,  therefore,  have  retired  beyond  the  limits  of  an 
immense  field  of  important  and  most  interesting  spec- 
ulations, must  indeed  have  retiied  beyond  the  limits 
of  all  the  speculation  most  important  to  man,  who 
can  say  that  nothing  in  the  rehgion  of  Christ  bears, 
in  any  manner,  on  any  part  of  his  subject  any  more 
than  if  he  were  a  philosopher  of  Satan Con- 
sider how  small  a  portion  of  the  serious  su.bjects  of 
thought  can  be  detached  from  all  connexion  with  the 
religion  of  Christ,  v/ithout  narrowing  the  scope  to 
which  he  meant  it  to  extend,  and  repelling  its  inter- 
vention where  he  intended  it  to  intervene.  The  book 
which  unfolds  it  has  exaggerated  its  comprehensive- 
ness, and  the  first  distinguished  Christian  had  a  delu- 
sive view  of  it,  if  it  does  not  actually  claim  to  mingle 
its  principles  with  the  whole  system  of  moral  ideas, 
6o  as  to  irnpait  to  them  a  specific  character:  in  the 
same  manner  as  the  element  of  fire,  interfused  through 
the  various  forms  and  combinations  of  other  elements, 
produces  throughout  them,  even  when  latent,  a  certain 
important  modification,  which  they  would  instantly 
lose,  and  therefore  lose  their  perfect  condition  by  its 
exclusion. 

22 


254  Foster's  thocghts. 


CHAPTER  XL 

PASSION,    AFFECTION,    SENSIBILITY,    AND    SENTIMENT. 

1.  Conversation  on  criielty,  and  the  cniel  sports 
particularly  among  cliildren  and  very  young  persons. 
Is  not  the  pleasure  of  feeling  and  exhibiting  power 
over  other  things,  a  principal  part  of  the  gratification 
of  cruelty  ? 

2.  Poor  horse  !  to  draw  both  your  load  and  your 
driver:  so  it  is  ;  those  that  have  power  to  impose 
burdens,  have  power  and  will  to  impose  their  vile 
selves  in  addition.  En  passant,  reflections  here ; 
how  different  is  this  one  fact  to  me  and  to  the  horse 
I  this  moment  looked  at ;  I  think — the  horse  feels  ; 
I  am  turning  a  sentence,  the  horse  pants  in  suffering; 
how  languid  a  feeling  is  that  of  sympathy  !  Nothing 
mortifies  me  more  than  that  defect  of  the  vitality  of 
sympathy,  with  which  I  am  for  ever  compelled  to  tax 
myself. 

3.  Figurative  use  of  ludicrous  associations  depra- 
ving.— It  is  a  great  sin  against  moral  taste  to  mention 
ludicrously,  or  for  ludicrous  comparison,  circumstan- 
ces in  the  animal  world  which  are  painful  or  distress- 
ing to  the  animals  that  are  in  them.  The  simile, 
"  Like  a  toad  under  akarrow,"  has  been  introduced 
in  a  way  to  excite  a  smile  at  the  kind  of  human  dis- 
tress described,  and  perhaps  that  human  distress  might 
be  truly  ludicrous,  for  many  such  distresses  there  ate 
among  human  beings ;  but  then  we  should  never  as- 
sume as  a  parallel  a  circumstance  of  distress  in  an- 


PASSIONS,    SUSCEPTIBILITIES,    ETC.  255 

Other  subject  which  is  serious  and  i-eal.  The  suflTer- 
inors  of  the  brute  creation  aie  to  me  much  more  sa- 
cred from  ridicule  or  gavety  than  those  of  men,  be- 
cause they  never  spring  from  fantastic  passions  and 
follies. 

4.  Cruelfi/  of  the  EnglisJi. — I  stoutly  maintained  in 
a  company  lately,  that  the  English  are  the  most  bar- 
bai-ous  people  in  the  world.  I  cited  a  number  of 
prominent  facts  ;  among  others,  that  huU-haiting  was 
lately  defended  and  sanctioned  in  the  grand  talisman 
of  the  national  humanity  and  virtue — the  parliament. 

5.  Mrs. 's  passions  are  like  a  little  wJiirhcind 

— round  and  round;  moving,  active,  but  still  Jiere ; 
do  not  carry  hev  forward,  away,  into  superior  attain- 
ment. 

6.  Curious  process  of  Jcindling  the  passion,— fear, 
in  one's  own  breast,  by  the  voluntary  imagination  of 
approaching  ghosts,  of  the  sound  of  murders,  &c., 
&c.     I  sometimes  do  this  to  escape  from  apathy. 

7.  Interesting  disquisition  on  the  value  of  continu- 
ous passion,  habitual  emotion,  and  whether  this  can 
be  created,  and  how  long  a  person  so  feeling  could 
live.      Bonaparte  can  not  live  long. 

8.  Strong  imagination  of  lying  awake  in  a  solitary 
room,  and  a  ghost  entering  and  sitting  down  in  the 
room  opposite  me.  What  an  intense  feeling  it  would 
be  while  I  reciprocated  the  fixed  silent  glare. 

9.  Some  people's  sensibility  is  a  viere  hundle  of 
aversions,  and  you  hear  them  display  and  parade  it, 
not  in  recounting  the  things  they  are  attached  to,  but 
in  telling  you  how  many  things  and  persons  they 
"  can  not  bear." 

10.  Fine  sensibilities  are  liTce  woodbines,  delight- 
ful luxuries  of  beauty  to  twine  round  a  solid,  upright, 
stem  of  understanding ;  but  very  poor  things,  if,  un- 
sustained  by  strength,  they  are  left  to  creep  along  the 
gi'ound. 

11.  Infinite  and  incalculable  caprices  of  feeling. — 


256  Foster's  xiiorciHTS. 

A  quartei-  of  an  hour  since  how  romantic,  how  en- 
cliantrd  with  the  favorite  idea,  how  anticipative  of 
pleasure  from  an  expected  meeting  !  I  have  ad- 
vanced witliin  two  hundred  yards  of  the  place  :  well, 
while  T  have  been  looking  at  some  trees  and  pool  of 
water,  the  current  of  sentiment  is  changed,  and  I 
feel  as  if  I  could,  wish  to  slink  away  into  deep  and 
eternal  solitude. 

12.  Importance  of  having  a  system  of  exercising 
the  offcctiovs,  friendship,  marriage,  philanthropy,  the- 
opathy.  If  not  in  some  of  these  ways  exercised,  af- 
fections become  stunted,  soured,  self-directed. — Old 
maids. 

13.  Captions  feelings  incident  to  a  devoted  affection. 
— My  friendship  for is  attended  with  a  pain- 
ful watchfulness  and  susceptibility;  my  heart  suffers 
a  feverish  alternation  of  cold  and  warmth;  physical- 
ly and  literally  sometimes  a  chill  sensation  pervades 
my  bosom,  and  moves  me  at  once  to  be  irritated  and 

weep Qm.  How  far  a  continual  state  of  feeling 

like  this  would  be  propitious  to  happiness  and  to  vir- 
tue %  Yet  how  is  a  son  of  fancy  and  passion  f  o  con- 
tent himself  with  that  mere  good-liking,  whicli  is  ex- 
empt from  all  these  pains, because  it  leaves  the  most 
elysian  powers  of  the  heart  to  sleep  unmolested  to 
the  end  of  time  %  It  seems  tolerably  evident,  that 
such  over-vitalized  feelings  are  unfit  for  this  world, 
and  yet  without  them  there  can  be  none  of  that  sub- 
limity and  ecstasy  of  the  affections,  which  we  deem 
so  congenial  to  the  felicities  of  a  superior  world. 

14.  Sad  jdeasure  in  grief — AVhat  is  that  sentiment 
approaching  to  a  sad  pleasure,  which  a  mind  of  pro- 
found reflection  sometimes  feels  in  a  far  inwai'd  in- 
communicable grief,  though  the  fixed  expectation 
of  calamity,  or  even  guilt,  were  its  cause  ? 

15.  Triumph  over  evils  in  tcord  rather  than  deed. 
— How  thoughtless  often  is  a  moralist's  or  a  preach- 
er's enumeration  of  what  a  firm  or  pious  mind  may 


PASSIONS,    SUSCEPTIBILITIES,    ETC.  257 

bear  with  patience,  ov  even  complacency;  as  disease, 
pain,  reduction  of  fortune,  loss  of  friends,  calumny, 
&c.,  for  he  can  easily  add  words  ;  alas  !  how  op- 
pressive is  the  steady  anticipation  only  of  any  one 
of  these  evils  ! 

16.  Host  Up  feeling  mitigated  to  Jcindness  hy  seen 
affliction. — How  every  hostile  feeling  becomes  miti- 
gated into  something  like  kindness,  when  its  object, 
perhaps  latt'ly  proud,  assuming,  unjust,  is  now  seen 
oppressed  into  dejection  by  calamity.  The  most 
cruel  wild  beast,  or  moi-e  cruel  man,  if  seen  languish- 
ing in  death,  and  raising  toward  us  a  feeble  and  sup- 
plicating look,  would  certainly  move  our  pity.  How 
is  this  ?  perhaps  tlie  character  is  not  even  supposed 
to  be  really  changed  amid  the  suffering  that  modifies 
its  expression.  Do  we  unconsciously  take  anything 
like  a  tender  feeling,  even  for  self,  as  a  proof  of  some 
little  goodness,  or  possibility  of  goodness  1  Is  it  for 
those  beings  alone  that  we  feel  nothing,  who  discov- 
er a  hard  and  stupid  indifference  to  self,  and  every- 
thing besides  ?  Perhaps  any  sentient  being,  the 
worst  existent  or  possible,  might  be  in  a  situation  to 
move  and  to  justify  our  sympathy.  What  then  shall 
we  think  of  that  theology  which  lepresents  the  men 
whom  God  has  made  most  like  himself,  as  exulting 
for  ever  and  ever  in  the  most  dreadful  sufferings  of 
the  larger  part  of  those  who  have  been  their  fellow- 
inhabitants  of  this  woild  ? 

17.  Despair  in  suffering. — I  am  going  to  wade  the 
stream  of  misery,  and  I  see  an  inaccessible  bank  be- 
fore me  on  the  other  side  ;  where  I  may  find  it  ac- 
cessible I  do  not  yet  know  ! 

18.  Sorroics  cleave  to  the  heart. — How  much  one 
wishes  it  possible  to  leave  each  painful  feeling  that 
accompanies  one  in  the  rock,  or  tlie  tree,  or  the  tomb 
that  one  passes  ;  but  no  :  tenaciously  faithful,  it  is 
found  to  accompany  still !     I  am  gone  on,  past  fields, 

22* 


258  FosTEn's  tiiouguts. 

and  wood.'?,  and  towns,  and  streams,  but  there  is  a 
spectre  licre  still  following-  me  ! 

19.  Elements  of  interest  in  conversation. — How  is 
it  possible  the  conversation  of  ^//a«  pair  can  be  inter- 
esting 1  Surely  the  great  principle  of  continued  in- 
terest in  such  a  connexion  can  not  be  to  talk  always 
in  the  style  of  simple,  direct  personality,  but  to  in- 
troduce personalitij  into  the  suhject ;  to  talk  of  topics 
60  as  to  involve  each  other'' s  feeling,  without  perpet- 
ually talking  directly  at  each  other. 

20  Reactive  influence  of  kind  and  of  vindictive  acts. 
— Let  a  man  compare  with  each  other,  and  also  bring 
to  the  abstract  scale,  the  sentiment  wliich  follows  the 
performance  of  a  kind  action  and  that  which  follows 
a  vindictive  triumph  ;  still  more  if  the  good  was  done 
in  return  for  evil.  How  much  pleasure  then  will  that 
man  insure — yes,  what  a  vast  share  of  it ! — whose  de- 
liberate system  it  is,  that  his  every  action  and  speech 
shall  be  beneficent  ! 

2  L.  Undue  tax  upon  attention  of  friends. — Remem- 
ber in  case  of  illness  and  confinement,  to  cause  as 
little  trouble  as  possible  to  attendant  friends ;  make 
a  great  and  philosophic  exertion  to  avoid  this.  There 
is  good  old  Ml-.  B.  here,  a  worthy  man,  and  very 
kind  to  his  family,  chiefly  daughters,  all  grown  up, 
and  most  of  them  married.  He  has  suffered  a  very 
severe  illness,  which  made  it  indispensable  for  some 
person  to  sit  up  with  him  all  night.  And  though  he 
is  greatly  recovered,  so  as  in  the  opinion  of  all  his 
friends  not  to  need  this  service  now,  yet  he  has  no 
wish  to  dispense  with  it,  nor  seems  ever  to  recollect 
how  laborious  and  oppressive  it  must  be;  and  will 
not  allow  other  persons,  even  one  of  his  other  daugh- 
ters, to  watch  with  him  as  substitutes  sometimes,  to 
relieve  the  two  who  have  borne  the  main  weight  of 
the  service,  and  who,  he  thinks,  can  do  it  better  than 
any  one  else.     Strange  inconsideration. 


PASSIONS,    SUSCEPTIBILITIES,    ETC.  259 

22.  Acrnrafe  judgment  of  the  characters  nf friends. 
— Supeihitive  v;)lue  in  connexions  oi  friendship  of 
love,  of  mutual  discrimination.  I  can  not  love  a  pei'- 
son  who  does  not  recoG^nise  my  individual  character. 
It  is  most  gratifying,  even  at  the  expense  of  every 
fauli  being  clearly  perceived,  to  see  that  in  my  friend's 
mind  there  is  a  standard,  or  scale  of  degrees,  and  that 
he  exactly  perceives  which  degree  on  this  scale  I 
reach  to.  What  nonsense  is  sometimes  inculcated  on 
married  persons  and  on  children  in  regard  to  their 
parents,  about  being  blind  to  their  faults,  at  the  very 
time,  forsooth,  they  are  to  cultivate  their  reason  to 
the  utmost  accuracy,  and  to  apply  it  fully  in  all  other 
instances!  as  if,  too,  this  duty  of  blindness  depended 
on  the  will !  .  .  .  .  All  strenuous  moral  speculations, 
all  high  ideas  of  perfection,  must  be  pursued  at  the 
expense  of  all  human  characters  around  us.  The 
defects  of  our  friends  will  strike  us,  whether  we  will 
or  not,  while  we  study  the  sublime  theory,  and  strike 
us  the  more,  the  more  distinctly  we  understand  the 
theory  and  them.  They  will  often  force  their  aid  on 
us  in  the  form  of  contrast.  This  can  not  be  helped  ; 
the  truth  and  the  consequent  feelings  must  take  their 
course. 

23.  Mutual  assistance  in  the  improvement  of  friends. 
— What  a  stupendous  progress  in  everything  estima- 
ble and  interesting  would  seem  possible  to  be  made 
by  two  tenderly  associated  human  beings  of  sense 
and  principle,  in  the  course,  say,  of  twelve  or  twenty 
years.  Yes,  most  certainly  ;  for  one  has  been  con- 
scious of  undero^oinor  a  considerable  modification  from 
associating  even  a  month  with  some  one  or  two  in- 
teresting persons.  Only  suppose  this  process  carried 
on,  and  how  great  in  a  ^aw  years  the  effect;  and  why 
is  it  absurd  to  suppose  this  process  still  carried  on 
through  successive  time  in  domestic  society  ] 

24.  Taste  for  the  sublime  important. — Represent- 
ed strongly  to  a  young  lady  the  importance  of  a  taste 


260  Foster's  thoughts. 

for  the  sublime,  as  a  most  powerful  ally  to  all  moral, 
all  religious,  all  dignified  plans  of  happiness. 

25.  Inajipreciation  of  works  of  genius. — Some  la- 
dies, to  whose  conversation  I  had  been  listening,  were 
to  take  away  an  epic  poem  to  read.  "  AVhy  should 
you  read  an  epic  poem?"  I  said  to  myself;  "you 
mi"-ht  as  well  save  yourselves  the  trouble."  How 
often  I  have  been  struck  at  observing,  that  no  effect 
at  all  is  produced,  by  the  noblest  works  of  genius,  on 
the  habits  of  thought,  sentiment,  and  talk,  of  the  gen- 
erality of  readers  ;  their  mental  tone  becomes  no 
deeper,  no  mellower ;  they  are  not  equal  to  a  fiddle, 
which  improves  by  being  repeatedly  played  upon. 
I  should  not  expect  one  in  twenty,  of  even  educated 
readers,  so  much  as  to  recollect  one  singularly  sub- 
lime, and  by  far  the  noblest  part,  of  the  poem  in  ques- 
tion: so  little  emotion  does  anything  awake,  even  in 
the  moment  of  reading;  if  it  did,  they  would  not  for- 
get it  so  soon. 

26.  Incapability  for  conversation. — Spent  part  of 
an  hour  in  company  with  a  handsome  young  woman 
and  a  friendly  little  cat.  The  young  v/oman  was  ig- 
norant and  unsocial.  I  felt  as  if  I  could  more  easily 
make  society  of  the  cat.  I  was,  however,  mortified 
and  surprised  at  this  feeling  when  I  noticed  it.  It 
does,  however,  seem  to  be  a  law  of  our  nature,  at 
least  of  mine,  that  unless  our  intercourse  with  a  hu- 
man being  can  be  of  a  certain  order,  we  had  rather 
play  awhile  with  an  inferior  animal.  Similar  to  this 
is  the  expedient  one  has  often  had  recourse  to,  of 
talking  a  large  quantity  of  mixed  sense  and  nonsense 
to  a  little  child,  to  even  an  insensible  infant  perhaps, 
from  finding  the  toil  or  the  impossibility  of  holding 
any  rational  intercoui-se  with  the  parents.  Fortunate- 
ly, in  this  case  the  parents  are  often  as  much  pleased 
as  if  one  were  talking  to  them  all  the  while. 

27.  Dancing  a  loiv  amusement. — You  plead  that 
dancing,  &c.    are  things  of  pleasant  sensation.     Yes, 


■.S.-zLi 


PASSIONS,    SUSCLPnniLITlES,    ETC. 


261 


yon  are  right ;  it  does  not  reach  sentiment.  The  line 
that  divides  the  regions  of  sensation  and  sentiment  is 
a  very  important  one:  is  not  dignity  all  on  the  other 
side  of  this  line,  that  is,  the  region  of  sentiment. 

2S.  hiappr eolation  of  any  exhibitions  of  mind. — 
They  can  hear  a  parson  showing  away  in  powder  and 
1  uffles — the  quack  doctor  haranguing  on  diseases  and 
pills — the  veteran  "shouldering  his  crutch,  and  telling 
how  fields  are  won" — the  barber  edsrinof  his  razor 
with  his  jests — the  young  lady  giving  new  interest  to 
a  tender  subject  by  the  remarks  which  her  feelings 
prompt — and  the  old  wench  telling  a  story  of  wed- 
dincjs  and  of  witches — all  with  the  same  undisturbed 
tranquillity  and  dulness.  Virtue  may  triumph,  or 
wickedness  blaspheme;  distress  may  supplicate  and 
weep;  injured  innocence  may  remonstrate  ;  industry 
may  reprove,  or  gratitude  may  bless ;  the  philosopher 
may  reason,  and  the  idiot  may  rave;  what  is  it  all  to 
them  ]  The  curious  and  the  novel  can  not  seize  at- 
tention ;  the  grand  finds  no  upper  story  above  the 
kitchen-apartments  of  their  minds;  the  tender  can 
not  awaken  torpid  sensibility ;  and  the  pathetic  re- 
bounds a  league  from  their  shielded  hearts. 

29.  Limitless  range  of  moral  and  metaphysical 
truth. — My  efforts  to  enter  into  possession  of  the  vast 
world  of  moral  and  metaphysical  truth,  are  like  those 
of  a  mouse  attempting  to  gnaw  through  the  door  of 
a  granary. 

30.  Incitements  of  high  example. — How  should  a 
mind,  capable  of  any  intellectual  or  moral  ambition, 
feel  at  the  thought  of  transcendent  examples  of  talent 
and  achievement?  Suggested  on  awaking  at  a  late 
hour,  and  instantly  recollecting — '•  Now  Bonaparte 
has  probably  been  four  hours  employed  this  morn- 
ino-  in  tliinkinjr  of  the  arrangements  of  the  greatest 
empire  on  earth,  and  I ." 

31  Different  orders  of  talent. — The  question  that 
leads  most  directly  to  the  true  estimate  of  a  man's 


»:i— = 


262  poster's  thoughts. 

talents  (T  asl\ed  myself  this  question  after  having  heen 
several  times  in  Mr.  Hall's  company)  is  this  :  How 
much  of  new  would  prove  to  be  gained  to  the  region 
of  truth,  by  the  assemblage  of  all  that  his  mind  has 
contributed?  The  highest  order  of  talent  is  certain- 
ly the  power  of  revelation — the  power  of  imparting 
new  propositions  of  important  truth  :  inspiration, 
therefore,  while  it  continued  in  a  given  mind,  might 
be  called  the  paramount  talent.  The  second  order 
of  talent  is,  perhaps,  the  power  of  development — the 
power  of  disclosing  the  reasons  and  the  proofs  of 
principles,  and  the  causes  of  facts.  The  third  oi'der 
of  talents,  is,  perhaps,  the  power  of  application — the 
power  of  adapting  truth  to  effect. 

32.  Connexion  of  imagination  and  judgment. — Long- 
maintained  question  in  conversation,  how  far  power- 
ful imagination  does  always,  or  necessarily,  imply 
powej-ful  judgment  too.  Instances,  Burns,  Bloom- 
field,  &c. 

33.  The  impress  of  genius  not  generally  apprecia- 
ted.— The  dictates  of  genius  urging  elevated  princi- 
ples are  not  admitted  or  understood  by  the  generality. 
So  I  remember  a  man  refusing  a  shilling  quite  new 
from  the  mint,  every  line  and  point  of  it  distinct  and 
brilliant,  for  "it  was  an  odd  kind  of  shilling,  not  like 
other  shillings,"  it  must  therefore  be  a  bad  or  sus- 
picious one. 

34.  Communication  of  ideas  to  a  congenial  mind. — 
I  know  the  luxury  of  disclosing  ideas  to  a  mind  who 
has  ideas,  of  expatiating  on  some  grand  interest  with 
a  person  who  feels  already  all  its  inspiration.  It  is 
like  planting  a  favorite  flower  amid  a  bed  of  still  moi'e 
beautiful  flowers,  instead  of  dooming  it  to  droop  or 
die  among  nettles,  a  fate  very  similar  to  that  of  aspi- 
ring sentiments  when  attempted  to  be  imparted  to 
trivial  or  degraded  minds. 

35.  Beautiful  ideas  transient. — Regret  that  inter- 
esting ideas  and  feelings  are  the  comets  of  the  mind; 


PASSIONS,    SUSCEPTIRILITIES,    ETC.  263 

they  transit  off.  Qu.  What  mode  of  making  them 
fixed  stars,  and  thus  the  mind  a  firmament  always 
resplendent  ? 

36.  Reluctance  to  mental  exertion. — INIymind  seems 
for  ever  to  can-y  about  with  it  five  hundred  weight 
of  earth,  or  lead,  or  some  other  heavy  and  useless 
materia],  which  denies  it  all  power  of  continued  ex- 
ertion. How  much  I  could,  regret,  that  industry  and 
all  other  virtues  are  not,  by  the  constitution  of  na- 
ture, as  necessary  and  inevitable  as  the  descent  of 
water  down  a  hill,  and  of  all  heavy  bodies  to  the 
earth. 

37.  An  original  preacher. has  one  power 

beyond  all  you  preachers  I  have  yet  heard — a  power 
of  massy  fragments  of  originality,  like  pieces  of  rock 
tumbling  suddenly  down,  and  dashing  into  a  gulf  of 
water  below. 

38.  Qualifications  of  an  orator  or  poet. — In  short, 
no  orator  or  poet  can  possibly  be  a  better  orator  or 
poet  than  he  is  a  thinker. 

39.  Nothing  new  under  the  sun. — I  compare  life  to 
a  little  wilderness,  surrounded  by  a  high,  dead  wall. 
Within  this  space  we  muse  and  walk  in  quest  of  the 
new  and  the  happy,  forgetting  the  insuperable  limit, 
till,  with  surprise,  we  find  ourselves  stopped  by  the 
dead  wall ;  we  turn  away,  and  muse  and  walk  again, 
till,  on  another  side,  we  find  ourselves  close  against 
the  dead  wall.  Whichever  way  we  tura — still  the 
same. 

40.  A  fascinating  companion  amidst  fascinating 
scenes. — Sat  a  little  while  with  a  fascinating  woman,  in 
a  room  which  looked  out  on  a  beautiful  rural  and  vernal 
scene,  while  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun  shone  in  with 
a  mellow  softness  that  can  not  be  described,  after 
spreading  a  very  peculiar  light  over  the  grass,  and 
being  partially  intercepted  by  some  blooming  orchard- 
trees,  so  as  to  throw  on  the  Avails  of  this  room  a  most 
n^agical  picture ;  every  moment  moving  and  changing, 


264  Foster's  thoi'ghts. 

and  finally  melting  away.  I  compared  this  room  in 
this  state,  contrasted  with  an  ordinary  room  in  an  or- 
dinary state,  to  the  interior  of  a  common  mind,  con- 
trasted with  the  interior  of  a  mind  of  genius.  Con- 
versation on  the  feelings  and  value  of  genius.  Shall 
never  forget  this  hour. 

41.  No  susceptibility  to  mental  excitation. — How 
many  of  these  minds  are  there  to  whom  scarcely  any 
good  can  be  done  ?  They  have  no  excitability.  You 
are  attempting  to  kindle  a  fire  of  stones.  You  must 
leave  them  as  you  find  them,  in  permanent  medioc- 
rity. You  waste  your  time  if  you  do  not  employ  it 
on  materials  which  you  can  actually  modify,  while 
such  can  be  found.  I  find  that  most  people  are  made 
only  for  the  common  uses  of  life. 

42.  Intellect  without  sentiment . — They  seem  to  have 
only  the  bare  intellectual  stamina  of  the  human  mind, 
without  the  addition  of  what  is  to  give  it  life  and  sen- 
timent. They  give  one  an  impression  similar  to  that 
made  by  the  leafless  trees  which  you  remember  our 
ob.?erving  in  v/inter,  admirable  for  the  distinct  exhi- 
bition of  their  branches  and  minute  ramifications  so 
clearly  defined  on  the  sky,  but  destitute  of  all  the 
green,  soft  luxury  of  foliage  which  is  requisite  to 
make  a  perfect  tiee.  And  even  the  affections  exist- 
ing in  snch  minds  seem  to  have  a  bleak  abode,  some- 
what like  those  bare,  deserted  nests  which  you  have 
often  seen  in  such  ti'ees. 

43.  Diversity  of  talents. — Divine  wisdom  has  allot- 
ted vario.us  kinds  and  divisions  of  ability  to  human 
minds,  and  each  ought  to  be  content  with  his  own 
when  he  has  ascertained  what,  and  of  what  dimen- 
sions it  really  is.  Let  not  a  poet  be  vexed  that  he 
is  not  as  much  adapted  to  mathematics  as  to  po- 
etry ;  let  not  an  ingenious  mechanic  regret  that  he 
has  not  the  powers  of  eloquence,  sentiment,  and  fan- 
cy. Let  each  cultivate  to  its  utmost  extent  his  proper 
talent;   but  still  remembering  that  one  part  of  the 


PASSIONS,    SUSCEPTIBILITIES,    ETC.  265 

mind  depends  very  much  on  the  whole,  and  that 
tlierefiire  every  povvei'  should  receive  an  attentive 
cultivation,  and  that  vai'ious  acquisitions  are  neces- 
sary in  order  to  give  full  effect  to  the  one  in  which 
we  may  excel.  To  reason  well,  is  most  essential  to 
all  kinds  of  mental  superiority.  The  Bible  forcibly 
displays  this  division  offerees,  under  the  illustration 
of  the  human  body,  1  Cor.  xii. 

44.  Perverted  genius, — Beings,  whom  our  imagi- 
nation represents  as  capable  (when  they  possessed 
great  external  means  in  addition  to  the  force  of  their 
minds)  of  tlie  grandest  utility,  capable  of  vindicating 
each  good  cause  whicli  has  languished  in  a  world  ad- 
verse to  all  goodness,  and  capable  of  intimidating  the 
collective  vices  of  a  nat!o.i  or  an  age — becominof 
themselves  the  vei-y  centres  and  volcanoes  of  those 
vices ;  and  it  is  melancholy  lo  follow  them  in  serious 
thonght,  fj-om  this  region,  of  which  not  all  the  pow- 
ers, and  diificulties,  and  inhabitants  together,  could 
have  subdued  their  adamantine  resolution,  to  the  Su- 
preme Tribunal  where  that  resolution  must  tremble 
and  melt  away. 

45.  Moral  sentiment  not  necessarily  elevated  hy  in- 
vestigations of  science. — P made  some  most  in- 

teres.iiig  observations  on  the  moral  effect  of  the  study 
of  natural  philosophy,  including  astronomy.  He  de- 
nied, as  a  general  effect,  the  tendency  of  even  this 
last  grand  science  to  expand,  sublime,  or  moralize 
the  mind.  He  had  talked  with  the  famous  Dr.  Her- 
scliel.  It  was  of  course  to  suppose,  a  priori,  that 
Herschel's  studies  would  alternately  intoxicate  him 
with  revery,  almost  to  delirium,  and  carry  him  irie- 
eistibly  away  toward  the  throne  of  the  Divine  Maj- 
esty.    P questioned  him  on  the  subject.     Her- 

Bchel  told  him  that  these  effects  look  place  in  his  mind 
in  but  a  very  small  degree  ;  much  less,  probably,  than 
in  the  mind  of  a  poet  without  any  science  at  all. 
Neither  a  habit  of  pious  feeUng,  nor  any  peculiar  and 

23 


2C6  rosTEu's  thoughts. 

transcendent  emotions  of  piety,  were  at  all  the  ne- 
cessary consequence. 

46.  Figure  of  perverted  use  of  memory. 's 

memory  is  nothing  but  a  row  of  hooks  to  hang  up 
grudges  on. 

47.  Characteristic  of  genius. — One  of  the  strongest 
characteristics  of  genius  is,  the  power  of  lighting  its 
own  fire. 

48.  Importance  of  imagination. — Imagination,  al- 
thouo-h  a  faculty  of  quite  subordinate  rank  to  intel- 
lect, is  of  infinite  value  for  enlarging  the  field  for  the 
action  of  the  intellect.  It  is  a  conducting  and  facili- 
tatino-  medium  for  intellect  to  expand  itself  through, 
where  it  may  feel  itself  in  a  genial,  vital  element,  in- 
stead of  a  vacuum. 


J 


OBSERVATION    OF    NATURE. 


267 


CHAPTER  XII. 


OBSERVATIONS  UPON  NATURE,  NATURAL  OBJECTS  AND 
SCENES ANALOGIES,  ETC. 

1.  Infinity  of  creation. — It  is  but  little  to  say,  that 
the  material  creation  is  probably  of  such  an  extent 
that  the  greatest  of  created  beings  not  only  have  never 
yet  been  able  to  survey  it  at  all,  but  never  will  to  all 
eternity.  .  .  .  If  the  stupendous  extension  of  the  works 
of  God  was  intended  and  adapted  to  promote,  in  the 
contemplations  of  the  highest  intelligences,  an  indefi- 
nitely glorious  though  still  incompetent  conception 
of  the  Divine  infinity,  the  ascertaining  of  the  limit,  the 
distinct  perception  of  the  finiteness,  of  that  manifes- 
tation of  power,  would  tend  with  a  dreadful  force  to 
repress  and  annihilate  that  conception  :  and  it  may 
well  be  imagined  that  if  an  exalted,  adoring  spirit 
could  ever  in  eternity  find  himself  at  that  limit,  the 
perception  would  inflict  inconceivable  horror. 

2.  Ut) per  ceiled  extent  of  the  universe. — When  we 
reflect  what  kind  of  creature  it  is  to  whose  view  thus 
much  of  the  universe  has  been  disclosed;  that  the 
physical  organ  of  this  very  perception  is  of  such  a 
nature  that  it  might,  in  consequence  of  the  extinction 
of  life,  be  reduced  to  dust  within  a  few  short  days 
after  it  had  admitted  rays  from  the  stars  ;  while,  as  to 
his  mental  part,  he  is,  besides  his  moral  debasement, 
at  the  very  bottom  of  the  gradation  of  probably  innu- 
raei'able  millions  of  intellectual  races  (certainly  at  the 
bottom,  since  a  being  inferior  to  man  in  intellect  could 
not  be  rational) ;  when  we  think  of  this,  it  will  appear 


268  FOSTER  S    THOUGHTS. 

ulterly  improbable  that  the  portion  of  the  universe 
which  such  a  creature  can  take  knowledge  of,  should 
be  more  than  a  very  diminutive  tract  in  the  vast  ex- 
pansion of  existence. 

3.  Invisible  creation  around  us. — Let  a  reflective 
man,  when  he  stands  in  a  garden,  or  a  meadow,  or  a 
forest,  or  on  the  margin  of  a  pool,  consider  what 
there  is  within  the  circuit  of  a  very  few  feet  around 
him,  and  that,  too,  exposed  to  the  light,  and  with  no 
veil  for  concealment  from  his  sight,  but  nevertheless 
invisible  to  him.  It  is  certain  that  within  that  httle 
space  there  are  organized  beings,  each  of  marvellous 
construction,  independent  of  the  rest,  and  endowed 
with  the  mysterious  principle  of  vitality,  to  the  amount 
of  a  number  which  could  not  have  been  told  by  units 
if  there  could  have  been  a  man  so  employed  from  the 
time  of  Adam  to  this  hour!  Let  him  indulge  for  a 
moment  the  idea  of  such  a  perfect  transformation  of 
his  faculties  as  that  all  this  population  should  become 
visible  to  him,  each  and  any  individual  being  pre- 
sented to  his  perception  as  a  distinct  object  of  which 
he  could  take  the  same  full  cognizance  as  he  now 
can  of  the  large  living  creatures  around  him.  What 
a  perfectly  new  world  !  What  a  stupendous  crowd 
of  sentient  agents  !  What  an  utter  solitude,  in  com- 
parison, that  world  of  living  beings  of  which  alone 
his  senses  had  been  competent  to  take  any  clear  ac- 
count before  !  And  then  let  him  consider  whether 
it  be  in  his  power,  without  plunging  into  gross  ab- 
surdity, to  form  any  other  idea  of  the  creation  and 
separate  subsistence  of  these  beings,  than  that  each 
of  them  is  the  distinct  object  of  the  attention  and  the 
power  of  that  one  Spiiit  in  which  all  things  subsist. 
Let  him,  lastly,  extend  the  view  to  the  width  of  the 
whole  terrestrial  field,  of  our  mundane  system,  of  the 
universe — with  the  added  thought  how  long  such  a 
creation  has  existed,  and  is  to  exist. 

4.  DejjenJoice  on  God  for  returning  seasons. — We 


OBSERVATION    OF    NATURE. 


269 


are  in  our  places  here  on  the  surface  of  ihe  earth,  to 
wait  in  total  dependence  for  Him  to  cause  the  sea- 
sons to  visit  our  abode,  as  helpless  and  impotent  as 
particles  of  dust.  If  the  Power  that  brings  them  on 
were  to  hold  them  back,  we  could  only  submit,  or  re- 
pine— and  perish  !  His  will  could  strike  with  an  in- 
stant paralysis  the  whole  moving  system  of  Nature. 
Let  there  be  a  suspension  of  his  agency,  and  all  would 
stop  ;  or  a  change  of  it,  and  things  would  take  a  new 
and  fearful  course  !  Yet  we  are  apt  to  think  of  the 
certainty  of  the  return  of  the  desired  season  in  some 
other  light  than  that  of  the  certainty  that  God  will 
cause  it  to  come.  With  a  sort  of  passive  irrelin^iou 
we  allow  a  something,  conceived  as  an  established 
order  of  Nature,  to  take  the  place  of  the  Author  and 
Ruler  of  Nature,  forgetful  that  all  this  is  nothing  but 
the  continually  acting  power  of  God  ;  and  that  noth- 
ing can  be  more  absurd  than  the  notion  of  God's  hav- 
ing constituted  a  system  to  be,  one  moment,  inde- 
pendent of  himself. 

5.  Change  of  spring  grateful  as  szirprising — its 
analog;/. — Consider  next  this  beautiful  vernal  sea- 
son ;  what  a  gloomy  and  unpromising  scene  and  sea- 
son it  arises  out  of!  It  is  almost  like  creation  from 
chaos;  like  life  from  a  state  of  death.  If  we  might 
be  allowed  in  a  supposition  so  wide  from  jirobability 
as  that  a  person  should  not  know  what  season  is  to 
follow,  while  contemplating  the  scene,  and  feeling 
the  I'igors  of  winter,  how  difficult  it  would  be  for  him 
to  comprehend  or  believe  that  the  darkness,  dreaii- 
ness,  bleakness,  and  cold — the  bare,  desolate,  and 
dead  aspect  of  Nature  could  be  so  changed.  If  he 
could  then  in  some  kind  of  vision  behold  such  a  scene 
as  that  now  spread  over  the  worth — he  would  be  dis- 
posed to  say  :  "  It  can  not  be  ;  this  is  absolutely  a  new 
creation  or  another  world  !"  Might  we  not  take  an 
instruction  from  this,  to  correct  the  judgments  we  are 
prone  to  form  of  the  Divine  government  1  We  are 
23* 


270  Foster's  thoughts. 

placed  vvitliin  one  limitetl  scene  and  period  of  the 
great  succession  of  the  Divine  dispensations — a  dark 
and  oloomy  one — a  prevalence  of  evil.  We  do  not 
see  how  it  can  be,  that  so  much  that  is  offensive  and 
grievous,  should  be  introductory  to  something  de- 
liohtful  and  glorious.  "  Look,  how  fixed  !  how  in- 
veterate! how  absolute  !  how  unchanging  !  is  not  this 
a  charactei-  of  perpetuity  !"  If  a  better,  nobler  scene 
to  follow  is  intimated  by  the  spirit  of  prophecy,  in  fig- 
ures analogous  to  the  beauties  of  spiing,  it  is  I'egarded 
with  a  kind  of  despondency,  as  if  prophecy  were  but 
a  kind  of  sacred  poetry;  and  is  beheld  as  something 
to  aggravate  the  gloom  of  the  present,  rather  than  to 
draw  the  mind  forward  in  delightful  hope.  So  we 
allow  our  judgments  of  the  Divine  government — of 
the  mighty  field  of  it,  and  of  its  progressive  periods 
— to  be  formed  very  much  upon  an  exclusive  view 
of  the  limited,  dark  portion  of  his  dispensations  which 
is  immediately  present  to  us  !  But  such  judgments 
should  be  corrected  by  the  spring  blooming  around 
us,  so  soon  after  the  gloomy  desolation  of  winter. 
The  man  that  we  were  supposing  so  ignorant  and 
incredulous,  what  would  he  now  think  of  what  he 
had  thought  then  1 

6.  Suhlimity  of  a  mountain. — We  behold  a  lofty 
mountain,  which  has  been  seen  by  so  many  eyes  of 
shepherds,  laborers,  and  fancy's  musing  children,  that 
will  see  it  no"moi'e.  While  we  view  the  towerinsf 
majesty  and  unchangeable  sedateness  of  its  cliff's  and 
sides,  and  the  venerable  gloom  of  forty  centuries  im- 
pressed on  its  brow,  imparting  a  deeper  solemnity  to 
the  sky,  which  sometimes  darkens  the  summit  with 
its  clouds  and  thunders,the  expression  of  our  feelings 
is — how  sublime  ! 

7.  SuhUmit)/  of  a  cataract. — We  have  taken  our 
stand  near  a  great  cataract;  the  thundering  dash,  the- 
impetuous  rebound,  the  furious  turbulence,  and  the 
murky  vapor — oh,  what  a  spectacle !  sometimes,  while 


OBSERVATION    OF    NATURE.  271 

we  have  gazed,  the  noise  and  mass  of  waters  seemed 
to  increase  every  moment,  threatening  to  involve  and 
annihilate  us.  We  could  fancy  we  heard  preternat- 
ural sounds — the  voice  of  death — through  the  roar. 
It  seemed  as  if  some  hideous  breach  had  taken  place 
of  the  regular  order  of  the  system,  and  the  element 
were  rushing  from  its  natural  state  into  strange  com- 
buslit)n,  as  the  commencement  of  ruin.  It  drives  a 
most  striking  representation  of  omnipotent  veno-eance 
pouring  on  enormous  guilt.  We  wonder  almost  that 
the  stream  could  change  the  calmness  wiih  which  it 
flowed  a  little  while  before  into  such  dreadful  tumult, 
and  that  fj-om  such  dreadful  tumult  it  could  subside 
into  calmness  again. 

8,  Suhlimitij  of  the  sea. — Perhaps  we  have  seen 
the  sea  reposing  in  calmness.  Its  ample  extent  and 
glassy  smoothness  seeming  almost  to  rival  the  sky 
expanded  above  it ;  its  depth  to  us  unknown  ;  the 
thought  that  we  stand  near  a  gulf,  capable  in  one 
hour  of  extinguishing  all  human  life — and  the  thought 
that  this  vast  body,  now  so  peaceful,  can  move,  can 
act  with  a  force  quite  equal  to  its  magnitude — inspire  a 
sublime  sentiment.  Perhaps  we  have  seen  it  in  tem- 
pest, moving  with  a  host  of  mountains  to  assault  the 
eternal  barrier  which  confines  its  power.  If  there 
were  in  reality  spirits  of  the  deep,  it  might  suit  them 
well  to  ride  on  these  rido^es,  or  howl  in  this  ragino- 
foam.  We  have  often  seen  the  furv  of  little  beings: 
but  how  insignificant  in  comparison  of  what  we  now 
behold,  the  world  in  a  rage  !  Indeed,  we  could  al- 
most imagine  that  the  great  world  is  informed  with 
a  soul,  and  that  these  commotit)ns  e.xpress  the  agita- 
tions of  its  passions.  Undoubtedly  to  marineis,  haz- 
arded far  off  in  the  midst  of  such  a  scene,  the  sub- 
limity is  lost  in  the  danger.  Horror  is  the  sentiment 
with  which  they  survey  the  vast  flood,  rolling  in  hide- 
ous steeps,  and  gulfs,  and  suiges  ;  while  at  a  dis- 
tance, on   the  gloomy  limit  of  the  view,  despair  is 


272  Foster's  thoughts. 

Been  to  stand,  summoning  forward  still  new  billows 
without  end.  But,  to  a  spectator  on  the  land,  the  in- 
fluence which  breathes  powerfully  from  the  scene, 
and  which  conscious  danger  would  darken  into  hor- 
ror, is  illuminated  into  awful  sublimity,  by  the  per- 
fect security  of  his  situation. 

9.  Sublimit  1/  of  the  sun. — But  the  sun  far  trans- 
cends all  these  objects,  and  yet  mingles  no  terror  with 
the  emotion  of  sublimity.  His  grandeur  is  expressed 
in  that  vivid  fluctuation,  and  that  profuse  effulgence, 
which,  so  superior  to  the  faintness  of  a  merely  re- 
flective luminaiy,  are  the  signs  of  an  original,  inex- 
haustible fire.  He  has  the  aspect  of  a  potentate,  am- 
bitious in  universal  empire  of  nothing  but  the  power 
of  universal  beneficence;  and  a  stranger  to  the  char- 
acter of  our  part  of  the  creation  would  think  that 
rnusl  be  a  pure  and  happy  world  which  is  blest  with 
so  grand  a  radiance  !  What  a  pleasure  to  see  him 
rise — but  partially  at  first,  as  with  a  modest  delay, 
till  the  smile  which  his  appearance  kindles  over  the 
world  invites  him  to  come  forward.  A  certain  de- 
mure coldness  which  a  little  while  before  gave  every 
object  a  coy  and  solitary  air,  shutting  up  even  the 
beauties  of  every  flower  from  our  sight,  is  changed 
by  his  full  appearance  into  a  kind  of  social  gayety, 
and  all  things,  animate  and  inanimate,  seem  to  re- 
joice with  us  and  around  us.  We  view  him  climb- 
ing the  clouds  that  sometimes  appear  on  the  horizon 
in  the  form  of  mountains,  which  he  seems  to  set  on 
fire  as  he  climbs.  In  his  course  through  the  sky,  he 
is  sometimes  seen  shaded  with  clouds,  as  if  passing 
under  the  umbrage  of  a  great  forest,  and  sometimes 
in  the  clear  expanse,  like  a  vast  fountain  of  the  ele- 
ment of  which  minds  are  made.  From  morning  till 
evening  he  has  the  dominion  of  all  that  is  grand  and 
beautiful  over  the  face  of  nature,  and  seems  at  once 
to  make  it  his  own,  and  to  make  it  ours.  His  glories 
are  augmented  in  his  decline,  as  he  passes  down  the 


OBSERVATION    OF    NATURE. 


273 


sky  amid  a  wilderness  of  beautiful  clouds,  the  incense 
of  the  world,  collected  to  honor  him  as  he  retires, 
till  at  last  he  seems  to  descend  into  a  calm  sea  with 
amber  shores — leaving,  however,  above  the  horizon 
a  mellow  lustre,  soft  and  sweet,  as  the  memory  of  a 
departed  friend.  How  important  and  dignified  should 
that  course  of  action  be,  which  is  lighted  by  such  a 
lamp  !  How  magnificent  that  system  which  required 
so  great  a  luminary — and  to  what  a  stupendous  ele- 
vation will  that  thought  rise,  which  must  vault  over 
such  an  orb  of  glory,  in  its  way  to  contemplate  a  Be- 
insr  still  infinitelv  greater  ! 

10.  SuMbtiifi/  of  the  heavens. — When  the  night  is 
come,  we  may  look  up  to  the  sublime  tranquillity  of 
the  heavens,  where  the  stars  are  seen,  like  nightly 
fires  of  so  many  companies  of  spirits,  pursuing  their 
inquiiies  over  the  superior  realms.  We  know  not 
how  far  the  reign  of  disorder  extends,  but  the  stars 
appear  to  be  beyond  its  limits ;  and,  shining  from 
their  remote  stations,  give  us  information  that  the 
universe  is  wide  enough  for  us  to  prosecute  the  ex- 
periment of  existence,  through  thousands  of  stages, 
perhaps  in  far  happier  climes  than  this.  Science  is 
the  rival  of  imagination  here,  and  by  teaching  that 
these  stars  are  suns,  has  given  a  new  interest  to  the 
anticipation  of  eternity,  which  can  supply  such  inex- 
haustible materials  of  intelligence  and  wonder.  Yet 
these  stars  seem  to  confess  that  thei'e  must  be  still 
sublimer  regions  for  the  reception  of  spirits  refined 
beyond  the  intercourse  of  all  material  lights;  and 
even  leave  us  to  imagine  that  the  whole  material  uni- 
verse itself  is  only  a  place  where  beings  are  appoint- 
ed to  originate,  and  to  be  educated  through  succes- 
sive scenes,  till  passing  over  its  utmost  bounds  into 
the  immensity  beyond,  they  there  at  length  find  them- 
selves in  the  immediate  presence  of  the  Divinity. 

11.  Rising  of  the  moon  :  train  of  reflection  suggest- 
ed by  it. — Have  just  seen  the  moon  rise,  and  wish  the 


274  poster's  thoughts. 

image  to  be  eternal.  T  never  beheld  her  in  so  much 
character,  nor  wlfli  so  much  sentiment,  all  these  thirty 
years  that  I  have  lived.  Emeiging  from  a  dark  mount- 
ain of  clouds,  she  appeared  in  a  dim  sky,  which  gave 
a  sombre  tinge  to  her  most  majestic  aspect.  It  seemed 
an  aspect  of  solemn,  retiring  severity,  which  had  long 
forgotten  to  smile  ;  the  aspect  of  a  being  which  had 
no  sympathies  with  this  world;  of  a  being  totally  re- 
gardless of  notice,  and  having  long  since  with  a  gloomy 
dignity  resigned  the  hope  of  doing  any  good,  yet  pro- 
ceeding with  composed,  unthangeable  self  determina- 
tion to  fulfil  her  destiny,  and  even  now  looking  over 
the  world  at  its  accomplishment.  (Happy  part  of 
the  figure.)  Felt  it  difficult  to  divest  the  moon  of 
that  personality  and  consciousness  which  my  imagi- 
nation had  recognised  from  the  first  moment.  With 
an  effort,  alternated  the  ideas  of  her  being  a  mere 
lucid  body,  and  of  her  being  a  conscious  power,  and 
felt  the  latter  infinitely  more  interesting,  and  even 
more  as  if  it  were  natural  and  real.  Do  not  know 
how  I  found  in  the  still  shades,  that  dimmed  in  sol- 
emnness  the  lower  part  of  her  orb,  the  suggestion  of 
immortality,  and  the  wish  to  be  a  "  disembodied  pow- 
er "  Question  to  the  silent  spirits  of  the  night : 
"  What  is  your  manner  of  feeling  as  you  contemplate 
all  these  scenes'?  Are  yours  all  ideas  of  absolute  sci- 
ence, or  do  they  swim  in  visionary  fancy  1"  The  ap- 
prehension of  soon  losing  my  power  of  seeing  a  world 
so  superabundant  of  sentiment  and  soul,  is  very  mourn- 
ful. 

12.    The  farthest  excursion  of  the  imagination  does 
not  reach  the  limit  of  the  universe. — In  conversation 

at  W 's,had  a  splendid  revel  of  imagination  among 

the  stars,  caused  by  the  mention  of  Herschel's  tele- 
scope, and  some  astronomical  facts  asserted  by  him. 
The  images,  like  Lee's  poetry,  were,  from  a  basis  jf 
excellence,  flung  away  into  extravagance.  But  it  is 
a  striking  reflection,  that  when  the  wild  dream  of 


OBSERVATION'    OP    NATURE 


275 


imagination  is  past,  the  thing  is  still  real :  there  is  a 
sun  ;  there  are  stars  and  systems;  innumerable  worlds, 
on  which  the  soberest  depositions  of  science  far  tran- 
scend all  the  visions  that  fancy  can  open  to  enthu- 
siasm ! 

13.  Vast  disjmrifi/  between  the  grandeur  of  Nature 
and  tlie  sentiments  with  which  it  is  contemplated. — I 
have  once  more  been  throwing  an  eager  gaze  over 
the  heaven  of  stars,  with  the  alternate  feelincfs  of 
shrinking  into  an  atom  and  expanding  into  an  angel 
— V,  hat  i  but  am  now  !  what  I  may  be  hereafter  !  I 
am  amazed  that  so  transcendently  awful  a  spectacle 
should  seize  attention  so  sekiom,  and  affect  the  habit 
of  thought  so  little.  What  is  the  most  magnificent 
page  of  a  heroic  poem,  compared  with  such  ati  ex- 
panse of  glonous  images  ?  It  seems  the  gi-and  por- 
tico into  that  infinity  in  which  the  incomprehensible 
Being  resides.  Oh,  that  this  soul  should  have  within 
itself  so  little  of  that  amplitude  and  that  divine  splen- 
dor which  deify  the  scene  that  for  ever  environs  it! 
Mortifying,  that  my  scope  of  existence  is  so  little, 
with  the  feelinfj  as  if  it  miijht  be  so  vast.  The  hem- 
isphere  of  thought  surely  ought  to  have  some  analogy 
with  the  hemisphere  of  vision.  Most  mortifying,  that 
this  wondrous,  boundless  universe  should  be  so  little 
mine,  either  by  knowledge  or  by  assimilating  influ- 
ence !  But  this  vision  gives  a  delightful  omen  of 
what  the  never-dying  mind  may  at  length  behold — 
may  at  last  become  !  Oh,  may  I  never  again  diso- 
bey or  forget  a  Power  whose  existence  pervades  all 
yonder  stars,  and  is  their  grandeur  !  It  is  indeed  pos- 
sible to  engage  his  attention,  and  enjoy  his  friend- 
ship for  ever  !  In  this  comparison,  Avhat  becomes  of 
the  importance  of  our  human  friendships  ?  Yet  still 
I  am  man,  and  the  social,  tender  sentiment  at  this 
very  moment  says  in  my  heart,  "  There  are  one  or 
two  dear  persons  whom  I  can  not  but  wish  to  havo 


276  Foster's  thoughts. 

for  my  aflfectionate,  impassioned  associates  in  explo- 
ring: those  divine  reo^ions. 

14.  Grand  conceit  of  the  sun  and  a  comet  as  con- 
scious beings,  encountering  each  other  in  the  circuit 
of  the  heavens. — Very  grand  idea,  presenting  the  sun 
and  a  comet  as  conscious  beings,  of  hostile  or  dubious 
determination  toward  each  other.  The  comet,  though 
a  less  orb,  yet  fraught  with  inextinguishable  ardor, 
passes  near  the  sun  in  his  course,  and  daies  to  look 
him  in  the  face.  The  aspect  of  fearless  calmness  with 
which  the  greater  orb  regards  him.  I  have  the  im- 
age, but  can  not  express  it. — Fingal  and  Cathmor,  &c. 

15.  Description  of  an  exquisitely  soft  and  pensive 
evening. — It  is  as  if  the  soul  of  Eloisa  pervaded  all 
the  air. 

16.  Little  bird  in  a  tree — Bird,  'tis  pity  such  a  de- 
licious note  should  be  silenced  by  winter,  death,  and, 
above  all,  by  annihilation.  I  do  not  and  I  can  not  be- 
lieve that  all  these  little  spirits  of  melody  are  but  the 
snuflf  of  the  grand  taper  of  life,  the  mere  vapor  of  ex- 
istence, to  vanish  for  ever. 

17.  On  listening  to  the  song  of  a  bird. — Sweet  bird  ! 
it  is  a  tender  and  entrancing  note,  as  if  breathed  by 
the  angel  of  love  ;  rather  the  infinite  spirit  of  love  in- 
spires thy  bosom,  and  thou  art  right  while  thou  sing- 
est  to  raise  those  innocent  little  eyes  to  heaven ! 

18.  On  seeing  a  butterfly. — Saw  a  most  beautiful 
buttei-fly,  which  I  was  half  inclined  to  chase.  Q«. 
Which  would  be  the  stronger  excitement  to  such  pur- 
suit, the  curiosity  raised  by  seeing  such  an  object  for 
the  first  time,  or  the  feeling  which,  as  now,  is  a  relic 
of  the  interests  and  amusements  of  early  youth  1 

19.  Correspondences  probable  between  remote  parts 
of  the  universe. — One  wonders  in  how  many  respects 
a  real  resemblance  exists  through  the  creation.  One 
may  doubt  whether,  if  there  be  embodied  inhabitants 
in  the  planets  of  other  suns,  or  even  in  the  other  plan- 
ets of  our  own  system,  they  have  forms  anything  like 


OBSERVATION    OF    NATURE.  277 

ours.  They  may  he  square,  orbicular,  uv  of  any  other 
form.  One  analogy  (physical  analogy),  however, 
strikes  me  as  prevailing  through  every  part  of  the 
universe  that  sight  or  science  can  reach,  and  that  is 
— -Jire.  The  fixed  stars  are  the  remotest  material  ex- 
istences we  know  of,  and  they  certainly  must  be  fire, 
like  that  which  exists  in  a  nearer  part  of  the  creation. 
This  striking  circumstance  of  similarity  warrants  the 
supposition  of  many  more  in  the  physical  phenomena 
of  the  distant  parts  of  the  universe — and  may  not  this 
physical  confomiity  wan-ant  the  supposition  of  a  sim- 
ilarity in  the  moral  phenomena  of  the  different  re- 
gions of  the  creation  1 

20.  Looking  at  dark  and  moving  clouds. — Large 
masses  of  black  cloud,  following  one  another  like  a 
train  of  giants,  in  sullen  silence,  answeiing  the  azure 
smiles  of  Heaven  that  gleam  between,  with  aVulca- 
nian  frown. 

21.  Observation  during  a  visit  in  a  rural  district. 
— Visit  to  a  farmer.  Has  a  wife  and  ten  children. 
A  great  deal  of  mutual  complacency  between  this 
pair.  The  children  very  pleasing.  Played  with 
several  of  them,  particularly  a  delightful  little  boy 
and  girl.  Obsei-ved  the  various  animals  in  the  farm- 
yard  Most  amusing  gambols  of  the  little  boy 

with  a  young  dog.  How  soon  children  perceive  if 
they  are  noticed.  In  many  of  their  playful  actions 
one  can  not  tell  how  much  is  from  the  excitement 
they  feel  from  being  looked  at  and  talked  of,  and 
how  much  is  from  the  simple  promptings  of  their  own 
inclination.  Observed  a  long  time,  in  the  fields,  the 
down  of  thistles.  Pleased  in  looking  at  the  little 
feathery  stars  softly  sailing  through  the  air,  and  ap- 
pearing bright  in  the  beams  of  the  setting  sun.  But 
next  observed  the  little  sportive  flies,  that  show  life 
and  will  in  their  movements.  What  a  stupendous  dif- 
ference !  Talked  on  education.  The  advantages 
of  a  large  family.     Importance  of  making  a  family 

24 


278  poster's  thoughts. 

a  society,  so  as  to  preclude  the  need  of  other  com- 
panions, and  adscititious  animation  and  adventure. 
Absolute  necessity  of  preventing  as  far  as  possible 
any  communication  of  the  children  with  those  of  the 
neisrhborhood. 

22.  Development  of  truth  from  reflective  observa- 
tion.— I  have  often  noticed  the  process  in  my  mind, 
when  in  the  outset  of  a  journey  or  day,  I  have  set 
myself  to  observe  whatever  should  fall  within  my 
sphere.  For  some  time  at  first  I  can  do  no  more 
than  take  an  account  of  bare  facts ;  as,  there  is  a 
house ;  there  a  man  ;  there  a  tree ;  such  a  speech 
uttered  ;  such  an  incident  happens,  &c.,  &c.  After 
some  time,  however,  a  large  enginery  begins  to  work; 
I  feel  more  than  a  simple  perception  of  objects  ;  they 
become  environed  with  an  atmosphere,  and  shed  forth 
an  emanation.  They  come  accompanied  with  trains 
of  images,  moral  analogies,  and  a  wide  diffused,  vital- 
ized, and  indefinable  kind  of  sentimentalism.  Gen- 
erally, if  one  can  compel  the  mind  to  the  labor  of  the 
first  part  of  the  process,  the  interesting  sequel  will 
soon  follow.  After  one  has  passed  a  few  hours  in 
this  element  of  revelation,  which  presents  this  old 
world  like  a  new  vision  all  around,  one  is  ashamed 
of  so  many  hundred  walks  and  days  which  have  been 
vacant  of  observation  and  reflection. 

23.  Varied  knowledge  greatly  increases  the  inter- 
est, and  instruction  of  daily  observation. — Power  of 
mind  and  refinement  of  feeling  being  supposed  equal, 
the  number  of  a  person's  interests  and  classes  of  knowl- 
edge will  have  a  great  effect  to  extend  or  confine  his 
sphere  of  observation.  Was  struck  lately  in  remark- 
ing Lunell's  superiority  over  me  in  this  respect.  In  a 
given  scene  or  walk,  I  should  make  original  obser- 
vations belonging  to  the  general  laws  of  taste,  to  fan- 
cy, sentiment,  moral  reflection,  religion ;  so  would  he, 
with  great  success  ;  but,  in  addition,  he  would  make 
obsei-vations  in  reference  fr)  the  arts,  to  geographical 


OBSKRVATIOX    OF    NATURE.  279 

comparison,  to  historical  comparison,  to  commercial 
interest,  to  the  artificial  laws  of  elegance,  to  the  ex- 
isting institutions  of  society.  Every  new  class  of 
knowledge,  then,  and  every  new  subject  of  interest, 
becomes  to  an  observer  a  new  sense,  to  notice  innu- 
merable facts  and  ideas,  and  consequently  receive 
endless  pleasurable  and  instructive  hints,  to  which 
he  had  been  else  as  insensible  as  a  man  asleep.  This 
is  like  employing  at  once  all  the  various  modes  of 
catching  birds,  instead  of  one  only.  It  is  another 
question,  whether  the  mind's  obsei-ving  powers  will 
act  less  advantageously  in  any  one  given  direction 
from  being  diverted  into  so  many  directions. 

24.  Difference  hetiveen  seeing  and  ohserving. — I  am 
not  observing,  I  am  only  seeing  :  for  the  beam  of  my 
eye  is  not  charged  with  thought. 

25.  On  observing  in  a  moonlight  walk  tJie  shadow 
of  a  great  rock  in  a  piece  oficater. — Astonishing  num- 
ber of  analogies  with  moral  truth,  strike  one's  ima- 
gination in  wandering  and  musing  through  the  scenes 
of  nature.  Oi",  is  analogy  a  really  existing  fact,  or 
merely  an  illusive  creation  of  the  mind  within  itself? 
Suggested  in  a  moonlight  walk,  by  obsen'ing  a  gi"eat 
rock  reflected  downward  as  far  as  its  height  upward, 
in  a  still  piece  of  water  at  its  foot,  and  by  comparing 
this  deception  to  that  delusive  magic  of  imagination 
which  magnifies  into  double  its  proper  dimensions  of 
importance  an  object  which  is  interesting. 

26.  Thoughts  in  traversing  rural  scenes. — Repeat- 
ed feeling,  on  traversing  various  rural  scenes,  of  the 
multitudinous,  overwhelming  vastness  of  the  creation. 
What  a  world  of  images,  suggestions,  mysteries  ! 

27.  On  ohservation. — The  capabilities  of  any  sphere 
of  observation  are  in  proportion  to  the  force  and  num- 
ber of  the  observer's  faculties,  studies,  interests.  In 
one  given  extent  of  space,  or  in  one  walk,  one  per- 
son will  be  struck  by  five  objects,  another  by  ten,  an- 
other by  a  hundred,  some  by  none  at  all. 


280  Foster's  thoughts. 

28.  Viviftjing  iitfiucnces  of  imagination. — Fancy 
makes  vitality  where  it  does  not  find  it ;  to  it  all  things 
are  alive.  On  this  unfrequented  walk  even  the  dry 
leaf  that  is  stirred  by  a  slight  breath  of  air  across  the 
path,  seems  for  a  moment  to  have  its  little  life  and  its 
tiny  purpose. 

29.  Diversion  from  natural  to  artificial  scenes. — 
How  much  a  traveller's  attention  is  commonly  en- 
grossed by  the  works  of  art,  houses,  carriages,  &c. ; 
and  how  little  is  it  directed  to  the  endless  varieties 
of  nature. 

30.  Lively  fancy  invests  inanimate  ohjects  with  life. 
— In  the  moment  of  uncontrolled  fancy  and  feeling, 
one  attributes  perceptions  like  one's  own  to  even  in- 
animate objects ;  for  instance,  that  solitary  tree  ap- 
pears to  me  as  if  regretting  its  desolate,  individual 
state. 

31.  Mankind  acquire  most  of  their  knowledge  hy 
sensation,  and  very  little  by  reflection. — How  little  of 
our  knowledge  of  mankind  is  deiived  from  intention- 
al accurate  observation.  Most  of  it  has,  unsought, 
found  its  way  into  the  mind  from  the  continual  pre- 
sentations of  the  objects  to  our  unthinking  view.  It 
is  a  knowledge  of  sensation  more  than  of  reflection. 
Such  knowledge  is  vague  and  superficial.  There  is 
no  science  of  human  nature  in  it.  It  is  rather  a  habit 
of  feeling  than  an  act  of  intellect.  It  perceives  ob- 
vious, palpable  peculiarities  ;  but  nice  distinctions, 
delicate  shades,  are  invisible  to  it.  A  philosopher 
will  study  all  men  with  as  accurate  observation  as  he 
would  some  individual  on  whose  dispositions,  opin- 
ions, or  whims,  he  believed  his  fate  to  depend. 

32.  Advantage  of  the  close  study  of  character. — 
Very  advantageous  exercise  to  incite  attentive  obser- 
vation and  sharpen  the  discriminating  faculty,  to  com- 
pel one's  self  to  sketch  the  character  of  each  person 
one  knows. 

33.  Women  observe  manners  more  than  characters. 


OBSERVATION*    OF    NATURE.  281 

— Some  ojie  said  that  women  lemarked  characters 
more  discriminately  than  men.  I  said,  "They  re- 
mark manners  far  more  tlian  characters."  The  men- 
tal force  which  might  be  compressed  and  pointed 
into  a  javelin,  to  pierce  quite  through  a  character, 
they  splinter  into  little  tiny  darts  to  stick  all  over  the 
features,  complexion,  attitude,  drapery,  &c.  How 
often  I  have  entered  a  room  with  the  embarrassment 
of  feeling  that  all  my  motions,  gestures,  postures, 
dress,  &c.,  &c.,  &c.,  were  critically  appreciated,  and 
self-complacently  condemned  ;  but  at  the  same  time 
with  the  bold  consciousness  that  the  inquisition  could 
reach  no  further.  I  have  said  with  myself,  "  My 
character,  that  is  the  man,  laughs  at  you  behind  this 
veil  ;  I  may  be  the  devil  for  what  you  can  tell  ;  and 
you  would  not  perceive  neither  if  I  were  an  angel 
of  light." 

34.  Unusual  appreciation  of  the  beauties  of  nature. 
— A  young  lady,  whose  perceptions  were  often  nat- 
ural and  correct  without  her  being  able  to  appreciate 
them,  said  to  a  friend  of  mine,  "I  like  to  walk  in  the 
country  with  you  because  you  are  pleased  with  re- 
marking objects  and  talking  of  them.  The  compan- 
ions I  have  been  accustomed  to  would  say,  when  I 
wished  to  do  this.  '  Caroline,  take  less  notice  of  the 
fields  and  more  of  the  company  !  !  !'  "  This  young 
woman,  amid  much  puerility,  would  frequently  ex- 
press, unconscious  of  their  value,  feelings  so  natural 
and  just  as  to  be  quite  interesting,  and  sometimes 
even  striking  to  a  philosopher.  I  compared  her  to 
the  African,  James  Albert,  who,  Avhen  come  to  Eng- 
land and  in  possession  of  money,  would  give  to  a 
begear  as  it  might  happen,  a  penny  or  a  half-guinea, 
unapprized  of  the  respective  value  of  each. 

35.  Philosophizing  in  observation. — "I  know  as 
well  as  you  the  folly  of  wandering  for  ever  among  the 
abstractions  of  philosophy,  while  truth's  business  and 
ours  is  with  the  real  world.     I  am  endeavoring  to 

24* 


282  Foster's  thoughts. 

learn  tinath  from  observations  on  facts.  I  am  trying 
to  take  off  the  hide  of  the  actual  world,  but  it  must 
be  curried  by  philosophy,  you  will  grant  me,  to  be 
made  fit  for  all  the  useful  purposes." 

36.  Effect  on  ojie's  ideas  from  musing  so  miich  suh 
dio. — A  sort  of  vacant  outline  of  greatness;  a  wide- 
ness  of  compass  without  solidity  and  exactness. 

37.  Observing  is  reading  tlie  hook  of  nature. — 
"  Looking  at  these  objects  is  reading  !"  said  I  to  my- 
self, while  beholding  sheep,  meads,  &c.  "  Is  not 
this  more  than  reading  descriptions  of  these  things'?" 
I  had  been  regretting  how  little  I  had  read  respecting 
some  things  that  can  be  seen. 

38.  Inappreciatiojiof  the  wonderful  laics  of  nature 
displayed  in.  familiar  things. — Mr.  H.  and  I  looked 
a  considerable  time  with  much  curiosity  and  gratifi- 
cation in  one  of  the  irregularly  cut  pendent  glasses 
of  a  lustre  in  which  we  saw  the  same  beautiful  dis- 
play of  colored  tints  and  brilliancies  as  in  the  prism, 
only  more  irregular  and  vaiiegated.  It  was  not  the 
glass  toy  we  for  a  moment  thought  about,  but  the 
strange  and  beautiful  vision,  and  those  laws  of  nature 
that  could  produce  it.  A  young  lady  present,  of 
polished  and  expensive  education,  large  fortune,  and 
fond  of  personal  and  furniture  oinaments,  expressed 
sincerely  her  wonder  at  our  childish  fancy  in  finding 
anything  to  please  us  in  such  an  object;  and  said  she 
would  reserve  the  first  thing  of  this  kind  she  should 
meet  with,  if  no  other  children  claimed  it,  for  one  of 
us.  I  did  not  fail  to  observe  the  circumstance,  as 
supplying  another  instance,  in  addition  to  the  ten 
thousand  one  has  met  with  before,  of  persons  who 
never  saw  the  world  around  them,  who  are  strangers 
to  all  its  witcheries  of  beauty,  and  who,  at  the  same 
time,  indulge  a  ridiculous  passion  for  the  petty  pro- 
ductions of  ait  subserving  vanity. 

39.  Improvement  of  ohservatinn  more  important 
than  its  extension. — Important  reflection  in  opposition 


OBSERVATION    OF    NATURE.  283 

to  the  regret  of  not  having  seen  more  of  tlie  world  in 
each  of  its  departments.  •  "  But  1  have  seen  far  more 
of  the  worhl,  that  is,  of  event,  character,  and  natural 
scenes,  than  I  have  turned  into  knovvled<xe — and  this 
alone  could  be  the  value  of  seeing  still  more." 

40.  A  mafi  of  ideality  diffuses  his  life  through  all 
things  around  him. — Made  in  conversation,  but  can 
not  recollect  sufficiently  to  write,  a  vivid  and  happy 
display  of  what  may  be  called  physiopathy,  a  faculty 
of  pervading  all  nature  with  one's  own  being,  so  as 
to  have  a  perception,  a  life,  and  an  agency,  in  all  things. 
A  person  of  such  a  mind  stands  and  gazes  at  a  tree, 
for  instance,  till  the  object  becomes  all  wonderful,  and 
is  transfiofured  into  somethino^  visionary  and  ideal. 
He  is  amazed  what  a  tree  is,  how  it  could,  from  a 
little  stem  which  a  worm  might  crop,  rise  up  into  that 
majestic  size,  and  how  it  could  ramify  into  such  mul- 
titudinous extent  of  boughs,  twigs,  and  leaves.  Fan- 
cy climbs  up  from  its  root  like  ivy,  and  twines  round 
and  round  it,  and  extends  to  its  remotest  shoots  and 
tiemblino:  foliaore.  But  this  is  not  all :  the  tree  soon 
becomes  to  your  imagination  a  conscious  being,  and 
looks  at  you,  and  communes  with  you;  ideas  cluster 
on  each  branch,  meanings  emanate  from  eveiy  twig. 
Its  tallness  and  size  look  conscious  majesty;  roaring 
in  the  wind  its  movements  express  tremendous  emo- 
tion. In  sunshine  or  soft  showers  it  cariies  a  gay,  a 
tender,  or  a  pensive  character ;  it  frowns  in  winter 
on  a  gloomy  day.  If  you  observe  a  man  of  this  or- 
der, though  his  body  be  a  small  thing,  invested  com- 
pletely with  a  little  cloth,  he  expands  his  being  in  a 
grand  circle  all  around  him.  He  feels  as  if  he  grew 
in  the  grass  and  flowers,  and  groves  ;  as  if  he  stood 
on  yonder  distant  mountain-top,  conversing  with 
clouds,  or  sublimely  sporting  among  their  imaged 
precipices,  caverns,  and  ruins.  He  flows  in  that  liver, 
cliafes  in  its  cascades,  smiles  in  the  aqueous  flowers, 
frisks  in  the  fishes,  and  is  sympathetic  with  every  bird. 


J 


284  Foster's  thoughts. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


MISCELLANIES. 


1.  Visit  to  Thornhury  church  :  rejections. — "Went 
to  Thornbury  church,  in  order  to  ascend  the  tower, 
which  is  vei'y  high.  Walked  (Hughes  and  I)  about 
awhile  in  the  church.  Saw  one  or  two  ancient  mon- 
umental inscriptions,  and  looked  with  intense  disgust, 
as  I  always  do,  at  the  stupid  exhibitions  of  coarsely- 
executed  heraldry.  Ascended  the  tower.  Observed 
both  in  the  staircase  of  the  tower,  and  on  the  leaden 
roof  of  the  church,  the  initials  of  the  names  of  visi- 
tants, some  of  whom  must  now  have  been  dead  a 
centuiy.  Reflections  on  the  forbearance  of  Time,  in 
not  obliterating  these  memorials  ;  on  the  persons  who 
cut  or  drew  these  rude  remarks,  their  motives  for 
doing  it,  their  present  state  in  some  other  world  ;  the 
succession  of  events  and  lives  since  these  marks  were 
made,  &c.  Waited  a  good  while  before  we  could 
open  the  small  door  which  opens  from  the  top  of  the 
staircase  to  the  platform  of  the  tower.  Amusing  play 
with  my  own  mind  on  the  momentary  expectation  of 
beholding  the  wide,  beautiful  view,  though  just  now 
confined  in  a  naiTow,  darkish  position.  Difference 
as  to  the  state  of  the  mind,  as  to  its  perceptions,  be- 
tween having,  or  not  having,  a  little  stone  and  mor- 
tar close  around  one.  Came  on  the  top.  The  rooks, 
jackdaws,  or  whatever  they  are  that  frequent  this 
kind  of  buildings,  flew  away.  So  ere  long  we  hope 
everything  that  belongs  to  the  established  church,  at 
the  approach  of  dissenters,  will  be  off. 


MISCELLANIES.  285 

Admired  the  extensive  view;  looked  down  on  the 
ruins  of  an  ancient  castle  in  the  vicinity;  frightful 
effect  of  looking  directly  down  much  lessened  by  the 
stiticture  all  around  the  top,  of  turrets,  high  parapet, 
and  a  slight  projection  just  below  the  edge.  Yet  felt 
a  sensation  ;  thought  of  this  as  a  mode  of  execution 
for  a  criminal  or  a  martyr.  Endeavored  to  realize 
the  state  of  being  impelled  to  the  edge  and  lifted 
over  it.  Endeavored  to  imagine  the  state  of  a  per- 
son whose  dearest  friend  should  perhaps,  in  conse- 
quence of  some  unfortunate  movement  of  his,  fall 
off;  degree  and  nature  of  the  feeling  that  would  ef- 
fectually prompt  him  to  throw  himself  after  ;  morality 
of  the  act.  Qu.  Whether  either  of  us  have  a  friend 
for  whom  one  should  have  thus  much  feeling  ?  Prob- 
ability, from  stiiking  instances,  that  many  mothers 
would  do  this  for  a  child. 

Examined  the  decaying  stone-work  ;  thought  again 
of  the  lapse  of  ages  ;  appearance  of  sedate  indiffer- 
ence to  all  things  which  these  ancient  structures  wear 
to  my  imagination,  which  can  not  see  them  long  with- 
out personifying  them.  Thickets  of  moss  on  the  stone. 
Noticed  with  surprise  a  species  of  vegetation  on  the 
surface  of  several  plates  of  iron.  Observed  with  an 
emotion  of  pleasure  the  scar  of  thunder  on  one  of 
the  tuiTets.  Sublime  and  enviable  office,  if  such  the 
voice  of  the  angels  who  wield  the  thunder  and  light- 
ning. Descended  from  the  tower,  to  which  we  shall 
probably  ascend  no  more ;  this  partly  a  serious,  pen- 
sive idea  ;  yet  do  not  care  ;  what  is  the  place,  or  any 
place,  to  us  1  We  shall  live  when  this  is  reduced  to 
dust. 

2.  Precij^ice  reflected  in  a  deep  pit :  analogy. — A 
picture  of  a  precipice  reflected  in  a  deep  pit,  ti'an 
scendently  beautiful  !  A  small  cascade  from  the  top 
falling  and  fretting  on  point  after  point  of  the  rocky 
precipice.  iNTost  beautiful  aquatic  green,  in  many 
recesses  of  the  precipice  nourished  by  this  water.     1 


286  rusTER's  THOUGHTS? 

wandered  and  gazed  here  five  years  since.  Dismal, 
sombre  look  of  tlie  farthest  point  of  the  shelving  rock, 
visible  down  through  the  dark  water  of  the  pit.  Pret- 
ty innocent  dimples  on  the  surface  of  this  pit,  caused 
by  a  gentle  breath  of  air.     Analogy — Deep  villain 

smiles. 

3.  Reflections  from  a  surf  ace  of  water  :  analogy. — 
Most  magical  succession,  for  several  miles,  of  reflec- 
tions on  the  glassy  surface  of  a  canal,  of  the  adjacent 
hill  and  wood  scenery.  One  stripe  of  reflection  of  a 
distant  scene,  and  a  grand  one,  in  a  small,  narrow 
piece  of  water  in  a  field,  so  that  this  foreign  piece 
seemed  joined  into  the  verdant  field.  Analogy — 
transient  view  of  heaven  in  this  common  life. 

4.  On  seeing  a  halcyon. — Felt  more  respect  for  it 
on  account  of  its  classic  celebrity,  than  a  common  bird. 
But  how  arbitrary  are  these  distinctions  ;  the  bird  has 
no  dignified  consciousness  of  superiority,  and,  except 
for  its  beauty,  possesses  none. 

5.  Observed  with  interest  the  tumults  occasioned  in 
a  canal,  by  the  sluice  of  the  lock  being  opened  ;  but 
recollected  what  vast  commotion  must  be  caused 
by  the  rebound  of  Niagara,  and  instantly  turned 
away. 

6.  Effect  of  natural  scenes  on  character. — Hope  to 
derive  considerable  influence  toward  simplicity  and 
i-efinement  from  my  pathetic  conversations  with  so 
many  charming  natural  scenes 

7.  Objects  of  affection  invested  icith  additional  charms 
by  interesting  associations. — Stood  in  a  solitary  grove, 
just  opposite  to  a  large  cascade,  on  which  I  looked 
with  long  and  fixed  attention.  Most  interesting  to 
observe  the  movements  of  my  own  mind,  particularly 
as  to  the  ideas  which  come  from  distant  (unseen)  ob- 
jects and  scenes.  The  images  of  several  favorite 
persons,  but  particularly  one,  came  around  me  with 
an  aspect  inconceivably  delicious.  Tried  to  ascer- 
tain how  much  of  this  charm  was  added  to  these  ira- 


MlSrF.l.T.AMKS,  287 

ag^es  Tiy  the  iiiflnenre  of  the  beautiful  scene  where 
they  appeared  to  me. 

8.  Field  of  oaks :  Jigvrc. — Most  remarkable  ap- 
pearaiice  of  a  field  full  of  oaks  rut  down,  disbarked 
and  embrowned  by  time.  Gave  me  forcibly  the  idea 
of  an  assemblage  of  giant  monsters;  or  of  the  skele- 
tons of  a  giants'  field  of  battle. 

9.  Moonheams  on  the  surface  of  a  river. — Exquis- 
itely curious  appearance  of  the  moonshine  on  the  rip- 
pled surface  of  a  broad  river  (Thames)  like  an  infi- 
nite multitude  of  little  fiery  gems  moving  and  spark- 
ling through  endless  confusion  ;  or  like  brilliant  insects 
sporting,  all  intermingled  and  never  tiied  or  reposing, 
the  most  vivid  frisks.  At  a  great  distance  the  ap- 
pearance is  lost  in  an  indistinct,  diff'used  light;  but 
they  are  there  as  busy  as  they  are  here.  How  busy 
activity  can  go  on  in  the  other  regions  of  the  earth, 
or  another  part  of  the  town,  without  knowing  or  car- 
ing whether  it  is  so  here  or  not ! 

10.  On  throwing  large  stones  down  a  deep  pit,  with 
apparently  a  great  depth  of  water  at  the  bottom,  a 
dark,  sullen  glimmer  of  which  the  eye  occasionally 
cau2:ht.  I  felt  almost  a  shudderinfj  sensntiini  at  the 
gloomy  and  furious  sound  of  the  watei.in  the  impet- 
uous commotion  caused  by  these  stones.  Strongly 
imagined  how  it  would  be  for  myself  to  hW  down. 

11.  Lantern  in  a  dark  night. —  Interesting  appear- 
ance of  the  tenebrious  glimmer  it  throws  on  the  near- 
est shrubs  and  trees ;  and  of  the  thick  darkness  that 
seems  to  lurk  and  frown  close  behind. 

12.  Entered  a  large  cavern,  sloping  down  very 
Bteep,  where  a  great  number  of  human  bones  have 
been  found.  Saw  a  considerable  quantity  of  them 
myself.  This  cavern  was  itself  but  lately  found.  It 
wns  broken  into  by  digging  away  the  rock.  No  con- 
jecture how  or  when  these  bones  came  there. 

13.  Drops  nf  rain  falling  on  a  sheet  of  water. — 
They  have  but  the  most  transient  effect  on  the  water ; 


288  Foster's  thoughts. 

they  make  a  very  slight  impression  of  the  moment, 
and  then  can  be  discerned  no  more.  But  observe 
these  drops  of  rain  falling  on  a  meadow  or  garden : 
here  they  have  an  effect  to  heighten  every  color,  and 
feed  every  growth.  Is  not  this  the  difference  be- 
tween the  mind  which  the  infinitude  of  sentiments 
and  objects  in  this  great  world  can  never  interest  or 
alter,  and  that  mind  which  feels  the  impression,  and 
enriches  itself  with  the  value  of  them  all  ? 

14.  Power  of  association. — A  lady  said  she  remem- 
bered a  remarkable  and  romantic  hill  much  more  dis- 
tinctly now  at  the  distance  of  a  considerable  number 
of  years,  from  the  impression  made  by  a  thunder- 
storm which  happened  when  she  was  on  the  summit 
of  this  hill.  I  observed  how  advantageous  it  is  to 
connect,  if  we  could,  some  striking  association  with 
every  idea  or  scene  we  wish  to  remember  with  per- 
manent interest.  This  is  like  framing  and  glazing 
the  mental  picture,  and  will  preserve  it  an  indefinite 
length  of  time. 

15.  An  observant  man,  in  all  his  intercourse  with 
society  and  the  world,  carries  a  pencil  constantly  in 
his  hand,  and,  unperceived,  marks  on  every  person 
and  thing  the  figure  expressive  of  its  value,  and  there- 
fore instantly  on  meeting  that  person  or  thing  again, 
knows  what  kind  and  degree  of  attention  to  give  it. 
This  is  to  make  something  of  experience. 

16.  Selfish  alliances  easier  and  stronger  than  henevo- 
lent  ones. — It  is  infinitely  easier  for  any  set  of  human 
beings  to  maintain  a  community  of  feeling  in  hostility 
to  something  else,  than  in  benevolence  toward  one 
another;  for  here  no  sacrifice  is  required  of  any  one's 
self-interest.  And  it  is  certain  that  the  subordinate 
portions  of  society  have  come  to  regard  the  occu- 
pants of  the  tracts  of  fertility  and  sunshine,  the  pos- 
sessors of  opulence,  splendor,  and  luxury,  with  a  deep, 
settled,  systematic  aversion  ;  with  a  disposition  to  con- 
template in  any  other  light  than  that  of  a  calamity  an 


MISCELLANIES.  289 

extensive  downfall  of  the  favorites  of  fortune,  when 
a  brooding  imagination  figures  such  a  thing  as  possi- 
ble ;  and  with  but  very  slight  monitions  from  con- 
science of  the  iniquity  of  the  most  tumultuary  ac- 
complishment of  such  a  catastrophe. 

17.  Exhibition  of  overstrained  politeness. — We 
have  been  oblifjed  acrain  and  ajjain  to  endeavor  to 
drive  out  of  our  imagination  the  idea  of  a  meeting 
of  friends  in  China,  where  the  first  mandarin  bows 
to  the  floor,  and  then  the  second  mandarin  bows  to  the 
floor,  anJ  then  the  first  mandarin  bows  again  to  the 
floor,  and  thus  they  go  on  till  friendship  is  satisfied  or 
patience  tired. 

18.  Worthy  patrons  important. — Either  Home  or 
Junius,  we  really  forget  which,  somewhere  says  that 
if  the  very  devil  himself  could  be  supposed  to  put 
himself  in  the  place  of  advocate  and  vindicator  of 
some  point  of  justice,  he  ought  to  be,  so  far,  support- 
ed. We  can  not  agree  to  this,  for  the  simple  reason 
that  the  just  cause  would  ultimately  suffer  greater 
injury  by  the  dishonor  it  would  contract,  in  the  gen- 
eral estimation  of  mankind,  from  the  character  of  its 
vindicator,  than  probably  it  would  suffer  from  the 
wrons:  agfainst  which  it  would  be  vindicated. 

19.  Peculiarities  of  the  age. — There  is  little  dan- 
ger now  of  men's  becoming  recluses,  ascetics,  devo- 
tees ;  systematically  secluded  from  all  attention  to, 
and  communication  with,  the  active  scenes  of  the 
world.  For  in  this  age  men's  own  concerns — really 
and  strictly  their  own — are  becoming  more  implicated 
with  the  transactions  of  the  wide,  busy  world.  In 
the  case  of  perhaps  thousands  of  men  in  this  country, 
their  immediate  interests — their  proceedings — even 
their  duty — are  sensibly  affected  by  what  may  be 
doing  on  the  other  side  of  the  globe — in  South  Amei-- 
ica,  or  in  Spain,  Italy,  Constantinople.  The  move- 
ments in  such  remote  scenes  send  an  effect  like  the 
far-extendins  tremulations  of  an  earthquake,  which 

25 


290  FOSTER  S    THOUGHTS. 

comes  under  the  house,  the  business,  the  property, 

of  men  even  here The  pervading,  connecting 

principle  of  communiUj ,  throughout  mankind,  as  one 
immense  body,  has  become  much  more  ahve.  It  is 
becoming  much  more  verified  to  he  one  body,  how- 
ever extended,  by  the  quicker,  stronger  sensation 
which  pervades  the  rest  of  it,  from  what  affects  any 
part.  There  is  indeed  much  of  diseased  and  irrita- 
ble sensibility  ;  it  is  as  if  the  parts  were  a  grievance 
to  one  another,  and  would  quarrel ;  as  if,  like  the 
hyena  at  Paris,  the  great  animal  would  devour  one 
of  its  own  lirnbs.  But  still  the  great  body  is  much 
more  sensibly  made  to  feel  that  it  has  its  existence  in 
all  its  parts Christian  benevolence  is  now  pros- 
ecuting its  operations,  not  only  with  far  greater  ac- 
tivity and  multiplicity  of  efforts,  but  on  a  far  wider 
plan.  Thus  the  religious  interests,  thoughts  and  dis- 
course of  private  individuals,  are  drawn  out  into  some 
connexion,  almost  whether  they  will  or  not,  with  nu- 
merous proceedings  and  occurrences  both  at  home 
and  far  off. 

20.  Inequalities  of  the  race. — Whatever  you  may 
say  or  fancy  about  the  equality  of  the  race,  it  needs 
only  a  little  civilization  to  make  one  of  them  look 
down  from  a  tower,  and  the  other  to  look  up  through 
a  grate. 

21.  A  malignant  ohservation  of  the  world. — At- 
tention may  be  exercised  on  the  actions,  characters, 
and  events,  among  mankind,  in  the  direct  service  of 
the  evil  passions  ;  in  the  disposition  of  a  savage  beast, 
or  an  evil  spirit,  in  a  keen  watchfulness  to  descry 
weakness,  in  order  to  make  it  a  prey;  in  an  attentive 
observation  of  mistake,  ignoi-ance,  carelessness,  or 
untoward  accidents — in  order  to  seize  with  remorse- 
less selfishness,  unjust  advantages;  in  a  penetrating 
inquisition  into  men's  conduct  and  character,  in  order 
to  blast  them  ;  or  in  lighter  mood  to  turn  them  in- 
discriminately to  ridicule.     Or  there  may  be  such  an 


MTSCELLANIES.  291 

exercise  in  the  temper  of  envy,  jealousy,  or  revenge  ; 
(or  somewhat  more  excusably,  but  still  mischievous- 
ly), for  the  purpose  of  exalting  the  observer  in  his  own 
estimation. 

22.  Dormant  elements  of  evil  in  society. — There 
is  a  large  proportion  of  human  strength  and  feeling 
not  in  vital  combination  with  the  social  system,  but 
aloof  from  it,  looking  at  it  with  "gloomy  and  malign 
regard  ;"  in  a  state  progressive  toward  a  fitness  to  be 
impelled  against  it  with  a  dreadful  shock,  in  the  event 
of  any  great  convulsion,  that  should  set  loose  the 
legion  of  daring,  desperate,  and  powerful  spiiits,  to 
fire  and  lead  the  masses  to  its  demolition.  There 
have  not  been  wanting  examples  to  show  with  what 
fearful  effect  this  hostility  may  come  into  action,  in 
the  crisis  of  the  fate  of  the  nation's  ancient  system  ; 
where  this  alienated  portion  of  its  own  people,  j'ush- 
ing  in,  have  i-evenged  upon  it  the  neglect  of  their 
tuition  ;  that  neglect  which  had  abandoned  them  to 
6o  utter  a  "  lack  of  knowledge,"  that  they  really  un- 
derstood no  better  than  to  expect  their  own  solid  ad- 
vantafTe  in  greneral  havoc  and  disorder. 

23.  An  oppressed  nation. — A  nation  tormented, 
plundered,  exhausted,  crushed  down  to  extreme  mis- 
ery under  the  hoofs  of  the  whole  troop  of  centaurs  in 
authority. 

24.  Contrasted  conditions  of  society. — T  am  sorry  not 
to  have  gained  the  knowledge  which  thirty  or  forty 
shillings  would  have  purchased  in  London.  At  the 
expense  of  so  much  spent  in  charity,  a  person  might 
have  visited  just  once  eight  or  ten  of  those  sad  re- 
tiiements  in  darkness  in  dark  alleys,  where,  in  gar- 
rets and  cellars,  thousands  of  wretched  families  are 
dying  of  famine  and  disease.  It  would  be  most  pain- 
ful, however,  to  see  these  miseries  without  the  pow- 
er to  supply  any  effectual  relief.  At  the  very  same 
time  you  may  see  a  succession  which  seems  to  have  no 
end,  of  splendid  mansions,  equipages,  liveries  ;  you 


■-n 


292         fostf-r's  thoughts. 

may  scent  the  effluvia  of  preparing  feasts;  you  may 
hear  of  fortunes,  levees,  preferments,  pensions,  cor- 
poration dinners,  loyal  hunts,  &c.,  &c.,  numerous 
beyond  the  devil's  own  arithmetic  to  calculate.  This 
whole  view  of  society  might  be  called  the  devil's 
'play-hill ;  for  surely  this  world  might  be  deemed  a 
vast  theatre,  in  which  he,  as  manager,  conducts  the 
endless,  horrible  drama  of  laughing  and  suffering, 
while  the  diabolical  satyrs  of  power,  wealth  and 
pride,  are  dancing  round  their  dying  victims ;  a 
spectacle  and  an  amusement  for  which  the  infernals 
will  pay  him  liberal  thanks. 

25.  Imagined  disclosure  of  the  machinations  and 
motives  of  rulers  and  courts. — If  statesmen,  including 
ministers,  popular  leaders,  ambassadors,  &c.,  would 
publish,  before  they  go  in  the  triumph  of  virtue  to 
the  "  last  audit,"  or  leave  to  be  published  after  they 
are  gone,  each  a  frank  exposition  of  motives,  cabals, 
and  manoeuvres,  it  would  give  dignity  to  that  blind 
adoration  of  power  and  rank  in  which  mankind  have 
always  superstitiously  lived,  by  supplying  just  reasons 
for  that  adoration.  It  would  also  give  a  new  aspect 
to  history  ;  and  perhaps  might  tend  to  a  happy  ex- 
orcism of  that  evil  spirit  which  has  never  allowed 
nations  to  remain  at  peace. 

26.  Responsibility  of  states. — Assuredly  there  will 
be  persons  found  to  be  summoned  foith  as  account- 
able for  that  conduct  of  states  which  we  are  contem- 
plating. Such  a  moral  agency  could  not  throw  off 
its  responsibiHty  into  the  air,  to  be  dissipated  and  lost 
like  the  black  smoke  of  fors^es  or  volcanoes. 

27.  Unworthy  objects  of  war. — There  may  occur 
to  his  view  some  inconsiderable  island,  the  haunt  of 
fatal  diseases,  and  rendered  productive  by  means  in- 
volving the  most  flagrant  iniquity;  an  iniquity  which 
it  avenges  by  opening  a  premature  grave  for  many 
of  his  countrymen,  and  by  being  a  moral  corrupter 
of  the  rest.     Such  an  infested  spot,  nevertheless,  may 


MISCELLANIES.  295 

have  been  one  of  the  most  material  objects  of  a  wide- 
ly destructive  war,  which  has  in  effect  sunk  incalcu- 
lable treasure  in  the  sea,  and  in  the  sands,  ditches, 
and  fields  of  plague-infested  shores  ;  with  a  dreadful 
sacrifice  of  blood,  life,  and  all  the  best  moral  feelings 
and  habits.  Its  possession,  perhaps,  was  the  chief 
prize  and  triumph  of  all  the  grand  exertion,  the  equiv- 
alent for  all  the  cost,  misery,  and  crime. 

28.  JVar  :  ifs  horrors  ;  slight  grounds. — A  certain 
brook  or  swamp  in  the  wilderness,  or  a  stripe  of 
waste,  or  the  settlement  of  boundaries  in  respect  to 
some  insignificant  traffic,  was  difficult  of  adjustment 
between  jealous,  irritated,  and  mutually  incursive 
neighbors  ;  and  therefore  national  honor  and  interest 
equally  required  that  war  should  be  lighted  up  by 
land  and  sea,  through  several  quarters  of  the  globe. 
Or  a  dissension  may  have  arisen  upon  the  matter  of 
some  petty  tax  on  an  article  of  commerce  ;  an  abso- 
lute will  had  been  rashly  signified  on  the  claim  ;  pride 
had  committed  itself,  and  was  peremptory  for  persist- 
ing ;  and  the  resolution  was  to  be  prosecuted  through 
a  wide  tempest  of  destruction  protracted  perhaps 
many  years ;  and  only  ending  in  the  forced  abandon- 
ment, by  the  leading  power  concerned,  of  infinitely 
moi-e  than  war  had  been  made  in  the  determination 
not  to  forego;  and  after  an  absolutely  fathomless 
amount  of  every  kind  of  cost,  financial  and  moral,  in 
this  progress  to  final  frustration.  But  there  would 
be  no  end  of  recounting  facts  of  this  order. 

However  whimsical  it  may  appear  to  recollect  that 
the  great  business  of  war  is  slaughter ;  however  de- 
plorably low-minded  it  may  appear  to  regard  all  the 
splendor  of  fame  with  which  war  has  been  blazoned 
much  in  the  same  light  as  the  gilding  of  that  hideous 
idol  to  which  the  Mexicans  sacrificed  their  human 
hecatombs  ;  however  foolish  it  may  be  thought  to 
make  a  difficulty  of  consenting  to  merge  the  eternal 
laws  of  morality  in  the  policy  of  states  ;  and  however 

25* 


294  poster's  thoughts. 

presumptuous  it  may  seem  to  condemn  so  many  privi- 
leged, and  eloquent,  and  learned,  and  reverend  person- 
ages, as  any  and  every  war  is  sure  to  find  its  advo- 
cates— it  remains  an  obstinate  fact,  that   there  are 
some  men  of  such  perverted  perceptions  as  to  appre- 
licnd  that  revenge,  rage,  and  cruelty,  blood  and  fire, 
wounds,  shrieks,  groans,  and  death,  with  an  infinite 
accompaniment  of  collateral  crimes  and  miseries,  are 
the  elements  of  what  so  many  besotted  mortals  have 
worshipped  in  every  age  under  the  title  of  "glorious 
war."   To  be  told  that  this  is  just  the  commonplace  with 
which  dull  and  envious  moralists  have  always  railed 
against  martial  glory,  will  not  in  the  slightest  degree 
modify  their  apprehension  of  a  plain  matter  of  fact. 
What  signifies  it  whether  moralists  are  dull,  envious, 
and  dealers  in  commonplace,  or  not  ?    No  matter  who 
says  it,  nor  from  what  motive  ;  the  fact  is,  that  war 
consists  of  the  components  here  enumerated,  and  is 
therefore  an  infernal  abomination,  when  maintained 
for  any  object,  and  according  to  any  measures,  not 
honestly  within  the  absolute  necessities  of  defence. 
In  these  justifying  necessities,  we  include  the  peiilto 
which  another  nation  with  perfect  innocence  on  its 
part  may  be  exposed,  from  the  injustice  of  a  third 
power ;  as  in  the  instanice  of  the  Dutch  people,  saved 
by  Elizabeth  from  being  destroyed  by  Spain.     Now 
it  needs  not  be  said  that  wars,  justifiable,  on   either 
side,  on  the  pure  principles  of  lawful  defence,  are 
the  rarest  things  in  history.     Whole  centuries  all  over 
darkened  with  the  horrors  of  war  may  be  exjolored 
from  beginning  to  end,  without  perhaps  finding  two 
instances  in  which  any  one  belligerent  power  can  be 
pronounced  to  have  adopted  every  precaution,  and 
made  every  effort,  concession,  and  sacrifice,  required 
by  Christian  morality,  in  order  to  avoid  war. 

The  laws  of  this  institution  are  fundamental  and 
absolute,  forming  the  primary  obligation  on  all  its 
believers,  and  reducing  all  other  rules  of  action  to 


fe;: 


MISCELLANMES.  295 

find  their  place  as  they  can,  in  due  subordination — 
or  to  find  no  j)lace  at  all Let  an  ambitious  des- 
pot, or  a  profligate  ministry,  only  give  out  the  word 
that  we  must  be  at  war  with  this  or  the  other  nation 
— and  then  a  man  who  has  no  personal  complaint 
against  any  living  thing  of  that  nation,  who  may  not 
be  certain  it  has  committed  any  real  injury  against 
his  own  nation  or  government,  nay,  who  possibly  may 
be  convinced  by  facts  against  which  he  can  not  shut 
his  ej'es,  that  his  own  nation  or  government  is  sub- 
stantially in  the  wrong — then  this  man,  under  the 
sanction  of  the  word  ^car,  may,  willi  a  conscience  en- 
tirely unconcerned,  immediately  go  and  cut  down 
human  beings  as  he  would  cut  down  a  copse ! 

29.  Scope  and  dignity  of  metaphysical  inquiries. — 
Metaphysical  speculation  tries  to  resolve  all  consti- 
tuted things  into  their  general  elements,  and  those 
elements  into  the  ultimate  mysterious  element  of 
substance,  thus  leaving  behind  the  various  orders  and 
modes  of  being,  to  contemplate  being  itself  in  its  es- 
sence. It  retires  a  while  from  the  consideration  of 
truth,  as  predicated  of  particular  subjects,  to  explore 
those  unalterable  and  universal  relations  of  ideas 
which  must  be  the  primary  principles  of  all  truth.  .  .  . 
In  short,  metaphysical  inquiry  attempts  to  trace  things 
to  the  very  first  stage  in  which  they  can,  even  to  the 
most  penetrating  intelligences,  be  the  subjects  of  a 
thought,  a  doubt,  or  a  proposition  ;  that  profoundest 
abstraction,  where  they  stand  on  the  first  step  of  dis- 
tinction and  remove  from  nonentity,  and  where  that 
one  question  might  be  put  concerning  them,  the  an- 
swer to  which  would  leave  no  fuither  question  pos- 
sible. And  having  thus  abstracted  and  penetrated 
to  the  state  of  pure  entity,  the  speculation  would 
come  back,  tracing  it  into  all  its  modes  and  relations  ; 
till  at  last  metaphysical  truth,  approaching  noaier  and 
nearer  to  the  sphere  of  our  immediate  knowledge, 
terminates  on  the  confines  of  distinct  sciences  and  ob- 


296  fostkk's  thoughts. 

vious  realities.  Now  it  would  seem  evident  that  this 
inquiry  into  primary  truth  must  surpass,  in  point  of 
dignity,  all  other  speculations.  If  any  man  could 
carry  his  discoveries  as  far,  and  make  his  proofs  as 
strong,  in  the  metaphysical  world,  as  Newton  did  in 
the  physical,  he  would  be  an  incomparably  greater 
man  than  even  Newton. 

30.  All  subjects  resolvable  hito  first  principles. — 
All  subjects  have  first  principles,  toward  which  an 
acute  mind  feels  its  investigation  inevitably  tending, 
and  all  first  principles  are,  if  investigated  to  their  ex- 
treme refinement,  metaphysical.  The  tendency  of 
thought  toward  the  ascertaining  of  these  first  princi- 
ples in  every  inquiry,  as  contrasted  with  a  disposition 
to  pass  (though  perhaps  very  elegantly  or  rhetorically) 
over  the  surface  of  a  subject,  is  one  of  the  strongest 
points  of  distinction  between  a  vigorous  intellect  and 
a  feeble  one, 

31.  Limits  to  metaphysical  inquiries. — Tt  is  also 
true  that  an  acute  man  who  will  absolutely  prose- 
cute the  metaphysic  of  every  subject  to  the  last  pos- 
sible extreme,  with  a  kind  of  rebellion  against  the 
very  laws  and  limits  of  Natui'e,  in  contempt  of  his 
senses,  of  experience,  of  the  universal  perceptions  of 
mankind,  and  of  Divine  I'evelation,  may  reason  him- 
self into  a  vacuity  where  he  will  feel  as  if  he  were 
sinking  out  of  the  creation.  Hume  was  such  an  ex- 
ample ;  but  we  might  cite  Locke  and  Reid,  and  some 
other  illustrious  men,  who  have  terminated  their  long 
sweep  of  abstract  thinking  as  much  in  the  spirit  of 
sound  sense  and  rational  belief  as  they  began. 

32.  Metaphysics  a  means  of  intellectual  discipline. 
— It  is  so  evident  from  the  natuie  of  things,  and  the 
whole  history  of  philosophy,  that  they  must  in  a  great 
measure  fail,  when  extended  beyond  certain  contract- 
ed limits,  that  it  is  less  for  the  portion  of  direct  met- 
aphysical science  which  they  can  ascertain,  than  for 
their  general  effect   on   the  thinking   powers,   that 


MISCELLANIES.  297 

we  deem  them  a  valuable  part  of  intellectual  disci- 
pline. 

33.  Practical  triiths  not  recondite. — The  truths  con- 
nected with  piety  and  the  social  duties,  with  the  means 
of  personal  happiness,  and  the  method  of  securing  an 
ulterior  condition  of  progressive  perfection  and  feli- 
city, lie  at  the  very  surface  of  moral  inquiries  ;  like  the 
fruits  and  precious  stores  of  the  vegetable  kingdom, 
they  are  necessary  to  supply  inevitable  wants,  and  are 
placed,  by  Divine  Benevolence,  within  the  reach  of 
the  meanest  individual. 

34.  Mohammedanism. — When  he  saw  its  pretend- 
ed sacred  book  supplanting  the  revelation  of  God  by 
a  farrago  of  ridiculous  trifles,  vile  legends,  and  viler 
precepts,  mixed  with  some  magnificent  ideas,  stolen 
for  the  base  purpose  from  that  revelation,  like  the 
holy  vessels  of  the  temple  brought  in  to  assist  the  de- 
bauch of  Belshazzar  and  his  lords ;  when  he  saw  a 
detestable  impostor  acknowledged  and  almost  adored 
in  the  office  of  supreme  prophet  and  intercessor  ;  this 
imposture  enjoined  in  the  name  of  God  to  be  enforced 
as  far  as  the  power  of  its  believers  can  reach  with  fire 
and  sword  ;  the  happiness  of  another  world  promised 
to  every  sanguinary  fanatic  that  dies  in  this  cause,  or 
even  in  any  war  that  a  Mohammedan  tyrant  may 
choose  to  wage ;  the  representation  of  that  other 
world  accommodated  to  the  notions  and  tastes  of  a 
horde  of  barbarians  ;  and,  as  a  natural  and  just  con- 
sequence of  all,  the  whole  social  economy,  after  the 
energy  and  zeal  of  conquest  had  evaporated,  living 
in  a  vast  sink  of  ignorance,  depravity,  and  wretch- 
edness. 

35  Remarkable  manifestation  of  mind  in  a  child. 
— What  a  divine  enchantment  there  is  in  mind  in  ev- 
ery age  and  form  !  I  have  felt  it  this  morning  with 
little  Sarah  Gibbs,  a  child  of  three  or  four  years  old, 
who  can  not  yet  articulate  plainly,  but  of  very  ex- 
traordinary character  for  obsei-vation,  thoughtfulness, 


298  foster''s  thoughts. 

and  grave,  deep  passions.  I  took  her  on  my  knee, 
pbyed  with  her  hands,  stroked  her  cheek,  and  never 
felt  so  much  interested  by  any  child  of  her  age.  Not 
that  she  said  anything  scarcely  ;  for  though  delighted 
as  I  knew  with  the  attention  of  a  person  to  whom 
she  had  been  led  to  attach  an  idea  of  importance,  she 
was  serious,  confused,  and,  as  it  were,  self-inclosed; 
but  I  was  certain  that  I  held  on  my  knee  a  being  sig- 
nally marked  from  her  coevals  by  an  ample  and  deep- 
toned  nature,  of  which  perhaps  the  country  could  not 
furnish  a  parallel.  She  has  a  strange  accuracy  and 
discrimination  in  her  remarks,  and  a  sort  of  dignity 
of  character  which  is  not  mingled  with  vanity,  but 
which  puts  one  on  teiTns  of  care  with  her,  and  makes 
one  afraid  to  treat  her  as  a  child,  or  do  or  say  any- 
thing which  may  offend  her  sense  of  chai'acter.  She 
is  affectionate  to  enthusiasm,  but  without  any  childish 
playfulness.  When  angry,  she  is  not  petulant,  but 
incensed.  She  is  loquacious  often  with  her  compan- 
ions and  her  schoolmistress,  but  still  it  is  all  thought 
and  no  frisk.  She  is  a  favorite  with  them  all.  The 
expression  of  her  countenance  is  so  serious,  that  one 
might  think  it  impossible  for  her  to  smile;  Indeed,  I 
have  never  seen  her  smile.  Her  parents  are  uncul- 
tivated people  of  the  lower  class,  who  have  no  per- 
ception of  the  value  of  such  a  jewel,  and  will  proba- 
bly throw  it  away.  (Should  not  one  be  very  much 
inclined  to  cite  such  an  instance  as  something  very 
like  a  proof  that  children  ai'e  born  with  very  different 
proportions  of  the  capability  of  mind  ?) 

36.  Influence  of  music. — Mr.  R ,  who  has  travel- 
led over  many  parts  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Wales, 
tuld  me  he  had,  at  one  time,  a  wish  and  a  project 
to  travel  over  France  and  the  rest  of  the  continent. 
While  musing  on  this  favorite  design,  he  one  day  en- 
tered the  cathedral,  at  Worcester,  in  the  time  of  ser- 
vice. AValking  in  the  aisles,  and  listening  to  the  or- 
gan which  affected  him  very  sensibly,  his  wish  to 


MISCELLANIES.  299 

travel  began  to  glow  and  swell  in  liis  mind  into  an 
almost  oveiw.ielming  passion,  which  bore  him  irre- 
sistibly to  a  determination.  He  could  not  have  felt 
more  if  he  had  seen  an  apparition,  or  heard  a  voice 
from  the  sky.  Every  idea  on  the  subject  seemed  to 
present  itself  to  his  mind  with  a  surprising  vivid  clear- 
ness and  force  ;  and  he  believes  that  from  that  mo- 
ment notliing  could  have  prevented  his  undertaking 
the  enterprise  but  the  commencement  of  the  war. 

This  seemed  to  me  a  happy  illustration  and  proof 
of  what  I  had  maintained  a  few  days  before,  in  a  con- 
versation on  music,  that  it  powerfully  reinforces  any 
passion  which  the  mind  is  at  the  time  indulging,  or  to 
which  it  is  predisposed.  This  was  maintained  in 
opposition  to  several  amateurs  of  music,  who  asserted 
that  sacred  music  has  a  powerful  tendency  to  pro- 
duce, by  its  own  influence,  devotional  feeling.  They 
had  mentioned,  with  strong  approbation,  a  pair  of 
reverend  divines,  who  commonly  make  a  small  con- 
cert on  the  Sunday  evening,  and  choose  sacred  mu- 
sic, as  adapted  to  the  day.  The  devotional  effect  of 
any  music,  except  on  devotional  minds,  was  utterly 
denied  and  disproved  ;  and  it  was  asserted  that  a 
young  man,  very  susceptible  to  the  impressions  of 
music,  if  inclined  to  vicious  pleasures,  would  proba- 
bly feel  the  sacred  music  inflame  to  intensity,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  invest  with  a  kind  of  vicious,  seduc- 
tive refinement,  the  propensities  which  would  lead 
him  from  the  concert  to  the  brothel.  By  the  same 
rule,  a  devout  man,  who  should  be  strongly  affected 
by  music,  would  probably,  if  other  circumstances  in 
the  situation  did  not  counteract,  feel  his  devotion 
augmented  by  pathetic  or  solemn  music. 

37,  Peter  in  prison. — Follow  him  thither  with  com- 
passion. Imagine  him  looking  (if  there  was  a  suffi- 
cient glimmer  of  light)  round  on  the  walls  of  his  new 
abode,  of  impregnable  thickness,  with  strong  bars, 
a  dreai-y  dismal  shade — ominous  sounds  ;  and  chains 


300  Foster's  thoughts. 

on  his  limbs.  "  This  it  is,"  he  might  say,  "  to  be  an 
avowed  and  faithful  servant  of  Him  that  died  for  me." 
But  what  if  he  said  further,  "  Well  I  would  rather  be 
here,  and  be  thus,  for  such  a  cause,  than  be  the  loi'd 
of  Herod's  or  of  Caesar's  palace.  While  the  body 
is  in  a  palace,  the  soul  may  be  in  prison ;  and  while 
the  body  is  in  prison,  the  soul  may  be  in  a  palace." 
"He  felt  no  restless  agitation;  cast  no  desponding 
looks  at  the  bars,  the  fetters,  the  walls,  the  guards  ; 
indulged  in  no  desperate  imaginations  or  vain  im- 
plorings.  He  slept  between  two  soldiers,  and  in  his 
chains,  and  under  the  doom  of  an  inexorable  tyrant." 
"  The  angel  of  the  Lord  came  upon  him,  and  a  light 
shined  in  the  prison."  His  entrance  to  Peter  was 
with  no  tumult,  and  ostentation  of  power.  It  was  so 
calm  and  silent  that  he  did  not  awake.  The  angel 
"  smote  him  on  the  side,"  and  summoned  him  to  rise. 
But  it  was  a  gentle  violence.  Not  so  he,  or  some 
of  his  celestial  associates,  had  smitten  the  assailants 
of  Lot.  Not  so  the  army  of  Senacherib — not  so  he 
smote  Herod.  A  gentle  violence  !  Methinks  an 
emblem  of  the  death  of  a  Christian  ;  a  soft  blow  to 
emancipate  him  from  the  prison  of  mortality — to  sum- 
mon and  raise  him  to  eternal  liberty,  to  the  amplitude 
of  heaven.  There  was  to  be  another  time  when  Pe- 
ter would  want  the  visit  of  such  a  messenger.  And 
there  will  be  a  time  when  we  also  shall  want  it;  when 
we  shall  have  to  go  out  from  the  prison-house  of  mor- 
tality— andfi'omthe  world  itself;  and  shall  need  such 
a  messenger  to  be  with  us,  and  not  to  leave  us — to 
accompany  us  in  an  immense  and  amazing  journey ; 
that  whereas  Peter  came  to  be  delightedly  and  col- 
lectedly sensible  of  the  grand  intervention,  when  he 
found  himself  alone  in  the  street,  we  may  become 
sensible  of  the  wondrous  reality  of  it,  by  finding 
ourselves  in  the  presence  of  saints  and  angels,  and 
their  Supreme  Lord,  "  Peter's  deliverance." 

38.  Powers  of  language. — Qy.   Are  the  powers — 


MISCELLANIES.  301 

the  capacity  of  human  lana:uage  limited  by  any  other 
bounds  tlian  those  which  limit  the  mind's  powers  of 
conception  ?  Is  there  within  the  possibility  of  hu- 
man conception  a  certain  order  of  ideas  which  no 
combinations  of  language  could  express?  Would 
the  English  language,  for  example,  in  its  strongest 
possible  structure  absolutely  sink  and  fail  under  such 
conceptions  as  we  may  imagine  a  mighty  spirit  of  the 
sapei'ior  or  nether  regions  to  utter — so  frail  as  not  to 
make  these  ideas  distinctly  appai'ent  to  the  human 
mind,  supposing  all  the  while  that  the  mind  could 
fully  admit  and  comprehend  these  ideas,  if  there  were 
any  adequate  vehicle  to  convey  them  1  Could  divine 
inspiration  itself,  without  changing  the  structure  of 
the  mind,  impart  to  it  such  ideas  as  no  language  could 
express  ?  If  a  poet  were  to  come  into  the  world  en- 
dowed with  a  genius,  suppose  ten  times  more  sub- 
lime than  Milton's,  must  he  not  abandon  the  attempt 
at  composition  in  despair,  from  finding  that  language, 
like  a  feeble  tool,  breaks  in  his  hand — from  finding 
that  when  he  attempts  to  pour  any  of  his  mental  fluid 
into  the  vessel  of  lanofuasre,  that  vessel  in  a  moment 
melts  or  bursts ;  from  finding,  that  though  he  is  Her- 
cules every  inch,  he  is  armed  but  with  a  distaff",  and 
can  not  give  his  mighty  strength  its  pi'oportional  ef- 
fect without  his  club  1 

39.  "  Omyiis  in  hoc"  is  the  description  of  the  only 
character  that  I  can  give  myself  to  entirely.  Green 
was  very  much  this ;  a  mind  not  only  of  deep  tone, 
but  always  so.  "  Omnis  in  Jioc  ;"  yes,  I  want  in  my 
associate  something  like  continuous  emotion.  I  hate 
a  neutral  reposing  state  of  the  passions,  that  kind  of 
tranquillity  which  is  merely  the  absence  of  all  pregnant 
sentiment.  I  pass  some  time  with  a  friend  in  the 
high  excitement  of  interesting,  perhaps  impassioned 
conversation  ;  next  day  I  revisit  this  friend  for  the 
sequel  of  this  energetic  season,  myself  glowing  vnth 
the  same  feelings  still.  Well,  with  my  friend  the 
26 


302  poster's  thoughts. 

enthusiasm  is  all  gone  by ;  his  feelings  are  tame  and 
easy  ;  yesterday  he  was  grave,  ardent,  every  particle 
imbued  with  sentiment ;  we  became  interested  to  the 
pitch  of  intensity  ;  I  thought,  "  Let  this  become  our 
habit  and  we  shall  become  sublime."  To-day  he  is 
in  an  easy,  careless  mood  ;  the  heroic  episode  is  past 
and  over  ;  he  is  perhaps  sprightly  and  flippant ;  his 
voice  has  recovered  from  its  tone  of  soul ;  and  he  is 
perhaps  complacently  busy  about  some  mere  trifles. 
My  heart  shuts  itself  up  and  feels  a  painful  chill ;  I 
am  glad  to  be  gone  to  indulge  alone  my  musings  of 
regret  and  insulation.  Women  have  moi'e  of  this 
discontinuity  than  men.  No  one  can  be  more  than 
interested  to-day,  and  degagee  to-morrow. 

A  man  of  melancholy  feelings  peculiarly  feels  this 
revulsion,  with  those  who  are  pensive  only  as  an  oc- 
casional sentiment;  not  like  himself,  as  a  habit.  His 
associates  should  all  be  of  his  own  character.  He 
emphatically  wants  unity  of  character  in  his  friend. 

I  have  moi-e  of  habitual  character  than  you . 

A  person  would  better  know  where  in  the  mental 
world  to  find  me.  The  ascendant  interest  of  yester- 
day is  the  ascendant  interest  of  to-day  too.  It  is  un- 
fortunate in  character  for  its  nobler  aspects  to  be 
transient.  You  have  not  sufficiently  a  grand  com- 
manding principle  of  seriousness  to  pervade  and  har- 
monize the  total  of  your  habits.  A  love  of  the  sub- 
lime is  with  you  a  sentiment ;  with  me  it  is  a  passion. 
In  the  gayety  of  innocence  you  sport  at  liberty,  foi'- 
getful  that  a  moral  and  immortal  being  should  have 
all  its  faculties  and  feeling^s  concentrated  toward  an 
important  purpose.  No  one  has  given  all  the  passion 
due  to  great  objects  till  trivial  ones  have  ceased  to 
amuse  him  into  even  a  temporary  oblivion  of  them. 
Yes,  after  attention  to  the  most  solemn  speculations, 
you  can  escape  so  completely  from  their  fascination, 
so  soon  brighten  off" their  interesting  sombre,  and  enter 
into  a  mirthful  party,  and  laugh  with  the  utmost  glee 


MISCELLANIES,  303 

and  gaiete  du  cceur.  Not  so  I;  not  so  Edwin,  if  he 
were  a  person  of  real  life  ;  not  so  Howard  ;  not  so 
any  one  who  is  seized  irrecoverably  with  a  spirit  of 
ardor  till  death.  Yes,  my  friend,  you  let  yourself  be 
what  may  happen,  rather  than  deliberately  determine 
to  be  what  you  should,  and  all  you  can. 

40.   Defence  of  the  utilitarian  theory. — Behold,  on 
that  eminence,  the  temple  of  utility — let  us  approach 
and  enter.     "  I  see  no  open,  regular  road  thither." 
"  True,  on  this  side  there  is  no  regular  approach  ; 
but  we  can  not  gain  the  other  side,  and  there  is  a 
most  urgent  ;vaso« for  us  to  come  up  to  the  holy  edi- 
fice.    What  then  ]   let  us  open  for  ourselves  a  way  ; 
let  us  cut  through  the  tangled  fence;  let  us  sacrifice 
a  beautiful  shrub,  or  even  a  fruit-tree,  to  clear  our- 
selves a  path,  rather  than  lose  forever  an  inestimable 
advantage." — "But  granting  your  principle  to  be  ab- 
stractly just,  there  is  this  serious  objection.     The  right 
application  of  it  in  cases  of  real  life  will  depend  on 
delicate  conscience  and  enlightened  calculation.     It 
is  needless  to  remark  how  few  of  mankind  are  thus 
qualified." — "  It  is  very  true,  and  it  is  as  if  you  were 
pointing  out  to  travellers  the  way  to  a  town,  lying  be- 
yond a  wide  and  wilderness  tract  of  country ;  it  passes 
through  the  intricacies  of  a  solitary  forest,  and  by 
some  very  dangerous  spots.      Two  persons   inquire 
of  you  the  way  to  the  town.     The  first  is  a  child. 
You  instantly  direct  him  to  go  the  plain  great  road, 
without  so  much  as  intimating  that  there  is  any  other 
or  shorter  way.     The  other  person  is  a  man;  a  man 
of  sense,  with  '  his  eyes  about  him  ;'  you  say  to  him, 
'  I  commonly  direct  travellers  to  keep  the  great  road, 
as  the  most  certain  and  safe,  though  tedious ;  but  I 
think  such  a  man  as  you  might  venture  a  shorter  path. 
Observe  me  carefully  ;  having  walked  such  a  distance 
along  the  side  of  the  hill  yonder,  you  must  turn  to 
the  right,  just  by  an  immensely  large  oak;  then  wind 
through  the  thick  shade,  by  a  path  you  will  perceive 


304  Foster's  thoughts. 

if  you  observe  attentively,  till  you  come  suddenly  to 
the  edge  of  a  great  precipice ;  pass  carefully  along 
the  edge  of  it  till  you  descend  into  a  glen;  there  you 
will  observe  an  old  wooden  bridge  across  a  deep 
water,  a  little  below  a  cataract,  the  sound-  of  which 
will  seem  to  make  the  bridge  ti-emble  as  you  pass ; 
but  it  trembles  because  it  is  crazy  ;  be  careful,  there- 
fore, to  step  softly.  You  must  then  pass  by  the  ruins 
of  an  abbey,  and  advance  forward  over  a  tract  of 
rough  ground  till  you  come,  &c.,  &c.,  &c.'  Thus  in 
morals  I  mean  to  assert  that  in  some  rare  instances 
the  path  of  duty  may  lie  in  a  more  direct  line  to  its 
grand  object,  than  by  the  letter  of  specific  laws;  but 
that  perhaps  only  the  eminently  conscientious  and 
intelligent  few  are  competent  to  judge  when  this  ex- 
ception takes  place,  and  how  to  dispose  of  it  proper- 
ly. '  This  is  a  curious  kind  of  prerogative  in  morals 
in  favor  of  your  illumines.'  I  can  not  help  it.  I 
know  that  my  principle,  like  every  other  gi-and  prin- 
ciple, may  be  perverted  to  a  fatal  consequence,  yet 
I  can  not  relinquish  it;  for  if  it  should  ever  happen 
(and  the  case  has  happened)  that  the  letter  of  a  moral 
law,  owing  to  some  extraordinary  concurrence  of 
circumstances,  should  stand  in  evident  opposition  to 
that  grand  utility,  for  the  promotion  of  which  all  moral 
rules  were  appointed  by  the  supreme  Governor,  it 
can  not  be  a  question  which  ought  to  be  sacrificed." 

41.  Supposition  of  angelic  comjianionsliip . — De- 
lightful convei-sational  revery  on  the  idea  of  an  angel 
living,  walking,  conversing  with  one  for  a  month. 
Month  of  ecstatic  sentiment!  What  profound  and 
incurable  regrets  for  his  going  away  ! 

42.  "  Well,  but  this  qualification  might  be  attained, 
if  a  man  would  exert  sufficient  application." — "  Ah, 
madam,  the  field  of  possibihty  is  so  beset  round  with 
a  hedge  of  thorny  ?/i." 

43.  Logic  efficient  in  persuasion. — There  is  an  ar- 
gumentative way,  not  only  of  discussing  to  ascertain 


MISCELLANIES.  305 

truth,  but  also  of  enforcing  acknowledged  and  familiar 
truth. — Baxter — Law. 

44.  Intellectual  j^ursuits  aided  hy  the  affections  — 
The  successes  of  intellectual  effort  are  never  so  great  • 
as  when  aided  by  the  affections  that  animate  social  ' 
converse.                                                                                            •'] 

45.  All  reasoning  is  retrospect ;  it  consists  in  the  ; 
application  of  facts  and  principles  previously  known. 

This  will  show  the  very  great  importance  of  knowl-  jj 

edge,  especially  that  kind  which  is  called  experience.  jj 

46.  Figure  of  an  equable  temjjer. — The  equanimity 
which  a  few  persons  preserve  through  the  diversities 
of  prosperous  and  adverse  life,  reminds  me  of  certain 
aquatic  plants  which  spread  their  tops  on  the  surface 
of  the  water,  and  with  wonderful  elasticity  keep  the 
surface  still,  if  the  water  swells  or  if  it  falls. 

47.  Adversity  !  thou  thistle  of  life,  thou  too  art 
crowned  ;  first  with  a  flower,  then  with  down. 

48.  A  man  of  genius  may  sometimes  suffer  a  mis- 
erable sterility  ;  but  at  other  times  he  will  feel  him- 
self the  magician  of  thought.  Luminous  ideas  will 
dart  from  the  intellectual  firmament,  just  as  if  the 
stars  were  falling  around  him  ;  sometimes  he  must 
think  by  mental  moonlight,  but  sometimes  his  ideas 
reflect  the  solar  splendors. 

49.  Casual  tho2ights  are  sometimes  of  great  value. 
— One  of  these  may  prove  the  key  to  open  for  us  a 
yet  unknown  apartment  in  the  palace  of  truth,  or  a  I 
yet  unexplored  tract  in  the  paradise  of  sentiment  that 
environs  it. 

50.  Self -complaisant  ignorance  in  judging  distin- 
guished characters. — I  heard  lately  an  educated  lady 
say  she  did  not  admire  Shakspere  at  all.  I  admired 
her.  It  has  often  struck  me  as  curious  to  observe  the 
entire,  unhesitating  self-complacency  with  which 
charactei'S  assume  to  admire  and  detest,  in  opposition 
to  the  concurrent  opinions  of  all  the  most  enlighten- 
ed and  thinking  minds With  all  this  self-satis- 

26* 


ii 


306  Foster's  thoughts. 

fied  feeling,  the  most  ignorant,  or  the  most  illiberal, 
hearers  of  sermons  pronounce  on  the  talents,  &c.,  of 
the  preachers. 

51.  Fragment  of  a  letter,  never  sent,  to  a  friend. — 
In  a  lonely  large  apartment  I  write  by  a  glimmer- 
ing taper,  too  feeble  to  dispel  the  spectres  which  im- 
agination descries,  flitting  or  hovering  in  the  twilight 
of  tlie  remote  corners.  The  wind  howls  without, 
and  at  intervals  I  hear  a  distant  bell,  tolling  amid 
antiquity  and  graves.  The  place  and  the  hour  might 
suit  well  for  an  appointed  interview  with  a  ghost,  com- 
ino-  to  reveal,  though  obscurely,  "the  secrets  of  the 
world  unknown."  I  almost  fancy  I  perceive  his  ap- 
proach ;  a  certain  trembling  consciousness  seems  to 
breathe  through  the  air;  an  indistinct  sullen  sound, 
like  the  tread  of  unseen  footsteps,  passes  along  the 
ground,  and  seems  to  come  toward  me ;  I  fearfully 

look  up — and  behold  !  ! Thus  abruptly  last  night 

I  stopped,  not  without  reason  surely. 

62.  Most  interesting  idea,  that  of  renovated  heing. 
— I  am  not  the  person  I  was,  the  past  is  nothing  to 
me  ;  the  past  /  is  not  the  present  /;  I  have  transited 
into  another  person  ;  I  am  my  own  phoenix. 

53.  Pleasure  of  recognition. — The  feeling  which 
accompanies  the  recognition  of  an  object  that  is  not 
in  itself  interesting,  but  where  the  interest  is  in  the 
circumstance  of  recognition.  I  have  a  feeling  of  this 
kind  in  seeing  what  I  believe  to  be  the  same  butter- 
fly again  at  a  considerable  distance  from  where  I  saw 
it  before. 

54.  Misapjn-ehcnsion  of  friends. — One  limitation 
to  the  noble  indifference  to  what  people  think  and 
say  of  us.  Every  generous  mind  will  regret  those 
misapprehensions  of  its  conduct,  which  occasion  mor- 
tification to  the  person  who  misapprehends — as  that 
a  person  you  respect  should,  through  some  mistake, 
believe  that  you  have  ridiculed  or  injured  him. 

55.  On   the   q^iestion   of  the  eq^iality  of  men   and 


"1 


MISCELLANIES.  307 

women. — A  lady,  in  answer  to  my  very  serious  rea- 
Boiiing  to  prove  tliat,  if  naturally  equal,  nothing  can 
bring  the  woman  to  an  actual  ecjuality,  but  the  same 
course  of  vigorous  mental  exertion  which  profession- 
al men  are  obliged  to  go  through,  said,  "  Well,  we 
shall  be  content  to  occupy  a  lower  ground  of  intel- 
lectual character  and  attainment."  1  replied,  "You 
may  then  be  consoled  ;  we  from  that  more  elevated 
region  shall  sometimes,  in  the  intervals  of  our  grand 
interests  and  adventures,  look  down  complacently 
and  converse  with  you,  till  the  emphasis  of  some 
momentous  subject  return,  and  call  us  to  transact  with 
our  equals.  It  will  be  ours  to  inhabit  the  paradise 
on  the  high  summit  of  that  mount  which  you  will 
never  climb;  we  shall  eat  habitually  the  fruit  of  the 
trees  of  knowledge,  but  we  will  kindly  sometimes 
throw  you  a  few  apples  down  the  declivity." 

56.  A?/iiising  idea,  of  'playing  a  concert  of  people, 
that  is,  drawing  forth  the  various  passions,  prejudices, 
&c.,  of  a  small  company  of  persons,  and  mixing  them, 
soothing  them,  exciting  them,  and,  in  short,  entirely 
playing  all  their  characters  at  the  will,  and  by  the 
unnoticed  influence  of  the  player. 

57.  Observation  during  a  walk  ofafew  7niles  alone. 
— This  glaring,  steady  sunshine  gives  an  indistinct 
sameness  to  all  objects,  very  like  a  frequent  state  of 
my  mind,  distended  in  a  fixed,  general,  vacant  stare, 
incapable  of  individualizing.  Hughes  described  it 
very  correctly  once,  after  hearing  me  perform  a  men- 
tal exercise  while  my  mind  was  in  this  state  :  "  All 
luminous,  but  no  light."  It  is  possible  to  go  on  in 
this  case,  with  a  train  of  diction  which  may  sound 
well  enough,  and  even  look  fine,  while  it  conveys  no 
definite  conceptions. 

58.  Revelation  explained  hy  science. — Effect  of  the 
application  of  astronomical  science,  or  rather  of  the 
immense  ideas  derived  from  astronomy,  to  modify 


308  Foster's  thoughts. 

theological  notions  from  the  state  in  which  divines 
exhibit  them. 

59.  A?i  active  minci,  like  an  iEolian  harp,  arrests 
even  the  vagrant  winds,  and  makes  them  music. 

60.  Test  of  original  itij. — Have  I  so  much  original- 
ity as  I  suppose  myself  to  have  ]  The  question  rises 
from  the  reflection  that  very  few  original  plans  of  ac- 
tion or  enterprise  ever  occurred  to  my  thoughts. 

61.  Standard  characters. — A  human  being  like 
Edwin  (the  minstrel)  would  be  the  proper  touchstone 
to  bring  into  the  routine  of  fashionable  life,  talk, 
amusements,  &c. :  what  his  feeling  would  nauseate 
is  nauseous. 

62.  Disparity  hetween  means  and  ends. — No  scheme 
so  mortifying  as  that  which  employs  large  means  to 
accomplish  little  ends.  Let  your  system  be  magni- 
tude of  end  with  the  utmost  economy  of  means. 

63.  To  the  Deity. — Give  me  all  that  is  necessaiy 
to  make  me,  in  the  greatest  practicable  degree,  hap- 
py and  useful,  I  feel  myself  so  remote  from  thee, 
thou  grand  centre,  and  so  torpid  !  It  is  as  if  those 
qualities  were  extinct  in  my  soul  which  could  make 
it  susceptible  of  thy  divine  attraction.  But  oh  !  thine 
energy  can  reach  me  even  here.  Attract  me,  thou 
great  Being,  within  the  sphere  of  thy  glorious  light ; 
attract  me  within  the  view  of  thy  throne  ;  attract  me 
into  the  full  emanation  of  thy  mercies ;  attract  me 
within  the  sphere  of  thy  sacred  Spiiit's  most  potent 
influences.  I  thank  thee  for  the  promise  and  the 
prospect  of  an  endless  life  ;  I  hope  to  enjoy  it  amid 
the  "  eternal  splendors"  of  thy  presence,  O  Jehovah  ! 
I  thank  thee  for  this  introductory  stage,  so  remark- 
ably separated  by  that  thick-shaded  frontier  of  death, 
which  I  see  yonder,  from  the  amphtude  of  the  future 

world. 

64.  Interesting  reminiscences. — It  would  be  inter- 
esting to  look  back  on  all  the  past  of  one's  life,  to 
see  how  many,  and  count  how  many,  vivid  little  points 


MISCELLANIES.  309 

of  recollection  still  twinkle  tlirough  its  shade.  My 
mind  just  now  can,s:lit  sight  of  one  of  these  stars  of 
retrospect,  at  the  distance  of  sixteen  or  seventeen 
years.  It  was  my  once  (in  a  summer  evening,  the 
sun  not  set)  lying  on  my  back  on  the  grass,  and  hold- 
ing a  small  earthern  vessel,  out  of  which  I  had  just 
sipped  my  evening  milk,  between  my  face  and  the 
sky,  in  such  a  way  tbat  a  few  of  the  soft  rays  glanced 
on  my  eyes,  and  seemed  to  foim  a  little  living  circle 
of  lustre",  round  an  eyelet-hole,  through  which  I  fan- 
cied visions  of  entrancing  beauty, 

65.  Deterioration  of  political  institutions. — All  po- 
litical institutions  will  probably,  from  whatever  cause, 
tend  to  become  worse  by  time.  If  a  system  were 
now  formed,  that  should  meet  all  the  philosopher's 
and  the  philanthropist's  wishes,  it  would  still  have 
the  same  tendency  ;  only  I  do  hope  that  hencefor- 
ward to  the  end  of  time,  men's  mind  will  be  intense- 
ly awake  to  the  nature  and  operation  of  their  insti- 
tutions ;  so  that  after  a  new  era  shall  commence,  gov- 
ernments shall  not  slide  into  depravity  without  being 
keenly  watched,  nor  be  watched  without  the  sense 
and  spirit  to  arrest  their  deterioration. 

66.  Mutual  recognition  of  inferior  animals. — I  ob- 
serve that  all  animals  recognise  each  other  in  the  face, 
as  instinctively  conscious  that  there  the  being  is  pe- 
culiarly present.  What  a  mysterious  sentiment  there 
is  in  one's  recognition  of  a  conscious  being  in  the  eye 
that  looks  at  one,  and  emphatically  if  it  have  some 
peculiar  significance  with  respect  to  one's  self  A 
very  striking  feeling  is  caused  by  the  opening  on  one 
of  the  eyes  of  any  considerable  animal,  if  it  instantly 
have  the  expression  of  meaning.  While  the  eye  is 
shut  the  being  seems  not  so  completely  with  us,  as 
when  it  looks  through  the  opened  organ.  It  is  like 
holding  in  our  hand  a  letter  wliich  we  believe  to  con- 
tain most  interesting  meanings,  but  the  seal  secludes 
them  from  us. 


310  Foster's  thoughts. 

67.  The  lost  teachings  of  our  Lord. — It  seems  a 
thino-  to  be  regretted  that  so  much  of  our  Lord's  con- 
versation, consisting  of  momentous  and  infallible  truth, 
should  have  been  irretrievably  lost.  How  much 
larger,  and,  if  one  may  say  so,  how  much  more  valu- 
able, the  New  Testament  would  have  been,  if  all  the 
instructions  he  uttered  had  been  recorded.  By  what 
principle  of  preference  were  the  conversations  which 
the  evangelists  record,  preserved,  rather  than  the  oth- 
ers which  are  lost?  That  he  did  many  things  that 
are  not  recorded  is  distinctly  said  by  John, last  chap- 
ter, last  verse, 

68.  DisagrecaUe  associations. — A  very  respectable 
widow,  who  lost  her  husband  ten  or  twelve  years 
since,  told  me  that  even  now  the  last  image  of  her 
husband  as  she  saw  him  ill,  delirious  and  near  death, 
generally  first  presents  itself  when  she  recollects  him. 
1  always  think  I  would  not  choose  to  see  a  dear  friend 
dead,  because  probably  the  last  image  would  be  the 
most  prompt  remembrance,  and  I  should  be  sorry  to 
have  the  dead  image  presented  to  me  rather  than  the 
living. 

69.  The  rational  soul  of  brutes. — Zealously  asserted 
the  rational  soul  and  future  existence  of  brutes. 
Their  souls  made  of  the  worse  end  of  the  celestial 
manufacture  of  mind,  which  was  not  quite  fine  enough 
to  make  into  men.  Various  strong  facts  cited  to  prove 
that  they,  at  least  some  of  them,  possess  what  we 
strictly  mean  by  mind,  reason,  &c. 

70.  Mode  of  addressing  the  Deity. — Struck  lately 
at  observing  in  myself  with  how  little  change  of  feel- 
ing I  passed  from  an  address  to  the  Deity,  to  an  apos- 
trophe to  an  absent  friend.  It  was  indeed  a  very  dear 
friend. 

71.  Due  restraint  in  company. — The  presence  of  a 
third  person  gives  a  more  balanced  feeling  with  re- 
spect to  an  individual  that  interests  one  too  much. 

72.  Figure  of  the  darkness  of  reason. — Polished 


MISCELLANIES.  311 

Steel  will  not  shine  in  the  dark;  no  more  can  reason, 
however  refined,  shine  efficaciously,  but  as  it  reflects 
the  light  of  di\-ine  truth — shed  from  heaven. 

73.  Value  of  observation  of  trifling  events. — I  re- 
member buying  some  trifle  of,  I  think,  a  fruit-woman, 
in  Ireland,  who  held  me  back  the  piece  of  money, 
and  requested  me,  as  it  was  the  first  money  she  had 
taken  that  day,  to  "spit  on  it  for  luck."  I  here  re- 
gret having  made  no  memoranda  of  the  vast  number 
of  curious  anecdotes,  incidents,  and  odd  glimpses  of 
human  nature,  which  one  has  met  with  in  the  course 
of  years,  and  forgotten. 

74.  An  intrusive  companion. — If  a  stranger  on  the 
road  is  anxious  to  have  you  for  a  companion,  it  is 
commonly  a  proof  that  his  company  is  not  worth  hav- 
ing. 

75.  Unperreived  origin  of  images  of  tTiougJit. — 
Many  images  are  called  up  in  the  mind  by  moral 
analogies  which  were  not  recognised  before,  that  is, 
were  not  noticed  with  a  distinct  thought. 

76.  Transmission  of  ignorant  habits. — Conjecture 
after  observing  the  habits  and  conversation  of  some 
rustics,  that,  superstition  excepted,  these  aie  identi- 
cally the  same  as  the  habits,  and  commonplaces,  and 
diction,  of  one  or  two  centuries  past.  One  thinks 
they  could  not  have  been  at  that  time  more  ignorant, 
rude,  and  destitute  of  abstraction,  than  now,  and  cer- 
tainly the  same  causes  that  prevent  acquisition  will 
likewise  prevent  alteration.  The  degree  remaining 
nearly  the  same,  the  manner  can  not  become  much 
different. 

77.  Deception  of  the  senses. — What  endless  decep- 
tions of  the  senses  may  happen  !  This  morning  I 
mistook  one  object  for  a  totally  different  one.  in  j^as- 
sing  it  many  times  within  a  few  feet,  till  I  happened 
to  examine  it,  when  in  a  moment  the  deception  was 
destroyed.  What  a  number  of  reports  and  recorded 
facts  may  be  of  this  kind  ! 


312  Foster's  thoughts. 

78.  Excitation  of  mind. — I  do  not  long  for  this 
powerful  excitation  as  an  instrument  of  vain-glory. 
It  is  not  a  thing  which,  ambition  out  of  the  way, 
would  give  me  no  disturbance.  No ;  it  is  essential 
to  my  enjoyment.  It  is  the  native  impulse  of  my 
60ul,  and  it  must  be  gratified,  or  I  shall  be  either  ex- 
tremely degraded  or  extremely  unhappy;  for  I  am 
unhappy  in  as  far  as  I  do  not  feel  myself  advancing 
toward  true  greatness.  I  feel  myself  like  a  large  and 
powerful  engine  which  has  not  sufficient  water  or 
fire  to  put  it  completely  in  motion. 

79.  Thoughtless  destruction  of  life. — I  have  seen  a 
man,  a  religious  man,  press  his  foot  down  repeatedly 
on  a  small  ant-hill,  while  a  great  number  of  the  poor 
animals  have  been  busy  on  it.  I  never  did  such  a 
thing,  never.  O  Providence !  how  many  poor  in- 
sects of  thine  are  exposed  to  be  trodden  to  death  in 
each  path  :  are  not  all  beings  within  thy  care  ? 

80.  Little  interest  of  human  beings  in  each  other, 
— At  an  association  lately,  observed  how  little  human 
beings  as  individuals  interest  one  another,  beyond  the 
very  narrow  limits  of  relationship,  love,  or  uncom- 
monly devoted  friendship.  There  were  several  pei*- 
Bons  with  whom  I  had  been  acquainted  complacently, 
but  without  any  particular  attachment,  several  years 
before,  and  had  not  seen  them  for  a  considerable  in- 
terval. We  met,  shook  hands — "  How  do  you  do  ?" 
— "  I  am  glad  to  see  you" — "  What  have  you  been 
dohig  all  this  while  1" — with  a  mutual  sHght  smile  of 
complaisance,  or  of  transient  kindness,  and  then  in  a 
minute  or  two  we  had  passed  each  other,  to  perform 
the  same  ceremony  in  some  other  pai't  of  the  room, 
without  any  further  recollection  or  care  respecting 
each  other.  And  yet  these  insipid  assemblages  of 
people  from  a  hundred  miles'  distance  are  said  to  be, 
in  a  gi*eat  measure,  for  the  sake  of  affection,  friend- 
fihip,  &c. 

So  in  London  lately,  my  acquaintance  might  hap- 


LbBB 


MISCELLANIES.  313 

pen,  or  might  not  happen,  to  make  a  shght  inquiry 
nhout  some  suhjeit  deeply  iiitei'estiug  lu  myself;  and 
if  they  had  hnppened,  by  the  time  tliat  I  had  coii- 
stiucted  tlie  first  sentence  of  reply,  the  question  was 
foigotten  and  something  else  adveited  to.  So  does 
oneself  in  the  same  case;  so  every  one  does;  we 
are  interested  only  about  self,  or  about  those  who 
form  a  part  of  our  self-interest.  Beyond  all  other 
extravagances  of  folly  is  that  of  expecting  or  wishing 
to  live  in  a  great  n(iml)er  of  hearts.  How  very  rca- 
sonahhj  jirohahle  is  the  prevalence  of  Godwin's  uni- 
veisal  |)hilanthropy  ! 

8 1 .  Imperfection  of  the  Jewish  dispensation . — Wh  y 
was  the  Jewish  dispensation  so  st'.ange,  so  exterior, 
so  inadequate?  Why?  Would  that  the  end  of  the 
world  were  come,  to  explain  the  proceedings  of  Prov- 
idence during  its  continuance  !  But  I  perceive  mul- 
titudes around  me,  who  know  nothing  of  these  doubts 
and  wonderings. 

82.  Self-deception. — Perhaps  you  may  think  that 
vanity  betrays  ine  into  a  flatterinfr  estimate  of  my  ca- 
pacity ;  and  perhaps  it  does ;  but  after  having  specu- 
lated on  myself  so  long,  I  doubt  whether  speculation 
will  now  be  able  to  detect  the  fallacy.  It  must  be 
left  to  expeiimont. 

S3.    U/icerfnintij  of  iJie  future. — Here  I  am  now,  in 

]i(^J4},  i/i.Ti'/.fii&W  i}t;ar  C ,  musing  on  plans  for  fu- 

tuj;it>,;,,,,;tV',h!gt^tqji)^iiti»>n4tii^}  ",iIovv — when — where 
— i^^lj  J  dW*^f'i,;f!!  "I"    'nv.    ry^r-i  ih'y.r  o!f;rni.i=— 

I  eqnside|:,p^c.Ji,;<Jt:i"-,V»s  Ij}»?t,hftvtng'.i)i3^*ljf  cj(}ri^i)il)d(i  H!- 
sefryd^oit^  e/"i]ife.>>;i,n(^, X  8>vvV(iyI)Ui}B*'<»,  -ajltl  iA  is^vmiji  .; 
great  pleasure  I  anti^j^ytaiS  ^'Kt^»>)tlet«t«a[i*fjtbe  bbnifl 
cle  in  meetinrr  vou  ajrain  in  little  moi'e  tlian  a  week. 
It  would  be  amusing  ft)r  each  to  exhibit  memoirs  of 
the  incidents  and  of  the  course.     I  was  lately  consid- 
ering what  would  be  the  effect  of  a  law  obliging  each 
peison  to  present,  at  appointed  periods,  a  hi&tory  of 
27 


314  poster's  thoughts. 

his  life  during  the  interval,  to  a  kind  of  morality  court, 
authorized  to  investigate,  censure,  and  reward.  I  was 
considering  how,  in  that  case,  I  should  dispose  of, 
and  where  I  should  conceal,  a  considerable  quantity 
of  the  materials  which  ought  to  be  exhibited  in  my 
history,  or,  if  I  could  not  conceal  them,  in  what  spe- 
cious language  it  would  be  possible  to  describe  them, 
so  as  to  obtain  the  tolerance  of  this  high  and  venera- 
ble court.  I  concluded  that  the  best  expedient  would 
be,  to  get  mi/.telj"  appointed  one  of  the  judges. 

What  a  delightful  thing  it  would  be,  to  be  able 
honestly  at  all  times  to  approve  oneself  entirely !  I 
have  sometimes  passed  through  a  series  of  deep  and 
wondering  reflection,  beginning  from  myself,  and  ex- 
tending over  and  around  that  vast  mass  of  human 
existence  I  have  been  observing ;  when  at  last  the 
thought,  that  an  invisible  and  omniscient  Power  is 
all  the  while  taking  these  things  that  I  look  at,  or 
hear,  or  do,  into  his  estimate,  expanded  as  it  were  in 
the  heavens,  an  ample  counterpart  to  this  world  of 
active  character  below;  when  this  thought  has  light- 
ened from  the  sky,  it  has  struck  as  a  thought  of 
alarm ;  it  has  even  sometimes  appeared  with  the  as- 
pect of  a  «ew  thought,  announcing  a  truth  not  known 
or  not  felt  before.  I  have  finished  the  reflections  by 
determining  that  as  there  really  is  an  estimate  above, 
coextending  with  the  advance  of  life  below,  a  wise 
man  will,  to  the  end  of  time,  associate  the  thought 
of  that  estimate  with  every  act  of  that  life.  I  hope 
henceforth  to  live  incessantly  under  the  influence  of 
this  thought;  and  then  I  should  neither  care  to  be 
a  judge  in  the  court  I  have  supposed,  nor  be  at  all 
afraid  to  present  myself  at  its  bar. 


"F    THE 

UNIVERSITY 


■—■v.^   . 


I 


in 


Si 
o 

CO 
o 


X 


o 


/«5f>?l7 


CiA»Ve39 


M\k' 


If 


i 


I  •    f 


i'rV 


^-^f'rtBtwyirtiiRVja'gtfkMt'VBWjftKr.fHHimHwgiiw.'*  3i'<gMP!Rw.q 


